


WHUMP.TOBER 2019 : Good Omens

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #1 #Shaky Hands, #10# Unconscious, #11# Stitches, #12# Don't Move, #13# Adrenaline, #14# Tear Stained, #15# Scars, #16# Pinned Down, #17# "Stay with me", #18# Muffled Scream, #19# Asphyxiation, #2 # Explosion, #20# Trembling, #21# Laced Drink, #22# Hallucination, #23# Bleeding Out, #24# Secret Injury, #25# Humiliation, #26# Abandoned, #27# Ransom, #28# Beaten, #29# Numb, #3# Delirium, #30# Recovery, #31# Embrace, #4# Human Shield, #5# Gunpoint, #6# Dragged away, #7# Isolation, #8# Stab Wound, #9# Shackled, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Adam, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley being a drama Queen, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hastur has a Bad Day, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 44,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: Every chapter is an individual story, but all are happening in the same universe, and all of them are related to each other.Mostly fluffy (as much as possible with these prompts^^) silly day to day fics happening to our boys :Hastur is NOT lucky in these.Crowley is overreacting a lot.Aziraphale is a sweet bastard.Adam likes salted popcorn.Crowley is practically living in the bookshop.A Peace Lilly encounters a tragic (and well deserved) fate.





	1. Shaky Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I said I would do it without beta reading, but honestly I wasn't confident enough to NOT ask for it on some chapters. Thanks, megzseattle !!  
I'll try to do all the prompts, really don't know if I can, but that's a personnal challenge^^ (That part is actually respected ! I am quite proud of myself (and very surprised)  
All of my GO fics are taking place in the same universe with the same Aziraphale and Crowley, so it's possible they sometimes mention things that actually happened in other fics of mine (i'll warn you if that ever happens).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Crowley spots a certain Duke of Hell right in front of him, he reacts as calmly as expected...

Crowley slammed the door and used a demonic miracle to seal it as tight as possible. That wouldn’t hold Hastur very long, but he still had holy water (very reluctantly given by a stone-faced Aziraphale after Armaggedn’t).

He rushed to his Mona Lisa, hands shaking, trying to enter that bloody code.

Shit. It was **bad**. It was really real bad. Last time wasn’t like that, he was so desperate he hadn’t even felt threatened. Earth was coming to an end, Aziraphale had cut him out of what remained of his life, and he'd watch himself act with a sort of detached interest.

Not today. Today was fucking scary. He had a _lot_ to lose. An awful lot. And he just didn’t want to die. Not now, not ever.

The safe refused to open, clearly enjoying his distress. He hissed at it and tried again, but his finger‘s tremors were in no way calming down.

« Fuck ! Open up, you asshole ! » He slammed hard against the steeled door. It just stared back at him with contempt. Maybe Hastur hadn’t see him, maybe he was safe… who was he kidding, Hastur _never_ came to earth, he hated it. He had to be there for him.

He tried again to call Aziraphale, to no avail. He already had left a message and multiple texts, but he wasn’t sure if the angel even knew how to use the cellphone he offered him to celebrate the return of his bookshop.

Maybe they’d _got_ him. Maybe he was already _dead_. He felt his throat constrict and stretched his mind to feel the angel’s presence. It took several try, he just couldn’t find him, and the scent of burning books started to invade his mind... but all off a sudden Aziraphale’s grace was here, bright and shining and…

Way too bright and shining, much more than usual. That wasn’t just average angelic radiance, that was **using** it, and using it a lot at that. Its presence felt very close to the shopping centre Crowley just came from after crossing path with a freaking Duke of Hell.

“Shit! Shitshitshit, FUCK!”

He didn’t even register that the shaking of his body had stopped all of a sudden, too busy running as fast as possible to the door, only remembering as his hand grabbed the handle that he could _teleport_.

The shopping centre was… quiet. People were walking fast, anxious to Have, to Buy, to Possess, stressing and spending money on things they would use one or two times before putting them aside and buying something else. The general atmosphere was so pleasing to the demon he has spent many an afternoon there, drinking coffee and watching suckers try to pick up a coin...

Crowley couldn’t enjoy that feeling today. He tasted the air, searching for the familiar scent of...

“_There_ you are, dear boy.”

He jumped as a hand grabbed his shoulder, and turned, fangs bared…

Aziraphale was looking at him with concerned attention. He seemed… perfectly fine. Not a scratch. Crowley extended his aura frenetically and exerted the ethereal equivalent of patting him down to check if he wasn’t hurt.

“Oh, really, dear. Is that absolutely necessary? I am perfectly fine.”

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice was laced with fear.

“Crowley?” Answered his friend with a deadpan expression that did a lot to ease the demon’s anguish.

“Where's Hastur?”

“Back to hell, I imagine. Oh! Ice cream!”

He spluttered while the angel strode purposely toward a little blue shop. Then run a few meters to catch up to him.

“How? What happened? How did you convince him to…?”

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “Convince? I didn’t talk to him, Crowley, he’s a demon ! It was my angelic duty to smite him on sight.” He said it with such a virtuous air that Crowley had a hard time deciding if he wanted to shake him or hug him really hard for daring to joke in such a situation.

“Sm… SMITE him? He’s a **fucking** **Duke of Hell**!” Aziraphale grimaced at the swearing, but didn’t say anything for once.

“How on earth did you pull that off without even a scratch?”

The white haired angel sat placidly on one of the shop’s little plastic chairs and sighed before answering with a long suffering air that was really uncalled for, in the demon’s opinion.

“Why, I didn’t _tell_ him I was there, of course. I came here as soon as I got your message, concealed my presence and attacked him from behind. He didn’t even understand what happened to him, I guess. I think he wasn’t even there for you. Didn’t seem armed or anything, poor fellow.”

Crowley felt in his chair, mouth opened. Tried to say something. Then a slow smile invaded his face, spreading wider and wider until he looked like the Cheshire Cat.

“Oh, angel… you’d be such a perfect demon...”

Aziraphale huffed “No need to be rude, dear.” His shoulders had tensed a little more than they usually would in response of an easy banter.

Crowley swallowed an ugly guilty feeling. He’d gone way too far with that one, he knew it. Aziraphale was… not comfortable, to say the least, with the idea of becoming a demon. Even as a joke. Personally, Crowley thought the idea completely ridiculous. Heaven in its entirety will Fall before his friend will even begin to stumble. But he knew the angel’s fear ran deep. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Take whatever you want, angel. My treat.”

The angel smiled delightfully and started to scan the menu, back to his normal self. Crowley only apologised when he felt absolutely wrong, which was almost never, and this simple word was the human equivalent of begging for forgiveness on his knees. Aziraphale will always give his absolution when it was uttered.

Relieved, Crowley vaguely wondered why Hastur had bothered coming to the surface if not for him. Then something occurred to him.

“Wait a minute. Why did you come here ? You said you got my message, I told you to run and save your skin, angel !”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Yes, because this is exactly the kind of thing you would have done in the same circumstances. I really wonder if an hysteric message from me ordering you to get out of town and let me die alone would make you take the Bentley and run away.” He saw Crowley’s hurt expression and huffed in irritation “I _don’t_ wonder, Crowley, I _know_ you’d come, that was a blood… a figure of speech, for God’s sake !”

“Wasn’t hysteric” mumbled Crowley, suddenly interested in the different flavors described on the menu, trying to hide an embarrassed blush behind the cardboard.

“It was, believe me”. Aziraphale launched into a surprisingly good imitation of the demon’s voice. ‘_Angel, I’m dead meat, get away from here and don’t turn back, they’re coming for you too !_’ that’s quite the drama queen act, dear, considering that _THEY_ were _one_ duke off hell trying to steal half a dozen buckets from an ironmonger's.”

“Whot ? What d’you mean, buckets ?”

“That’s what he did. There were quite a lot. He wasn’t very stealthy, if you ask my opinion” added the angel with the superior air of a true sleight-of-hand master (which he wasn’t).

“Why would he steal buckets ? And I’m NOT a drama queen !”

“You ARE ! I was awfully worried, and I broke my favorite mug appearing here in a hurry !”

“Well… can’t you, you know… miracle it back ?”

“I already did. But it was broken. I’m not happy, and buying me ice cream will not be enough to redeem yourself, demon. See if I came next time you’re in trouble.”

Crowley stretched languidly all over his chair faking a pout, a warm, contented feeling settling in his chest. Things were back to normal.

He really wondered what were the buckets for, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pity Hastur, really...  
Poor guy has no idea how he got discorporated and he didn't even bring back his buckets...


	2. Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not so quiet afternoon in St James's Park...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok there is angst but really, not that much, and there's fluff and happy ending, promess !  
Happy endings are my life...
> 
> Mention of chapter one and Hastur, but you don't have to have read it to follow.

It started in St James’s Park. They were both sitting (sprawling, in Crowley’s case) on their usual bench, Crowley chuckling while observing two men in trench coats trying to exchange their briefcases as inconspicuously as possible, while Aziraphale was thinking of a particular sentence he’d read in a particular book years ago, realising just now that there was not a double entendre as he had first thought, but a triple.

Everything looked… perfectly all right.

Aziraphale lightly shook his shoulders. He felt… tense. Like something was off.

He looked around, only seeing perfectly natural scenes. A girl on a bike, with her mother running after her, proud and terrified. An adorable old couple walking shakily hand in hand (he sent them an angelic blessing, calming the tremors in the man’s arms for at least a decade and soothing the woman’s worries about their grand-son. The young man was not on a good path. He made a mental note to talk to Crowley about that one. His friend would know how to terrify the kid back on track).

Nothing untoward, really. He shrugged once more, and tried his best to go back to the book he was trying to remember.

Impossible. His train of thoughts just kept derailing. There was something… wrong. Something he was fairly certain he’d just seen… out of the corner of his eyes. Something… creepy. Once again he looked around. Children playing, spies spying, runners running, Crowley beaming…

He froze. Crowley… _beaming_ ? That was not right. Crowley rarely smiled, and almost never beamed. It was undemonic. That’s what poked at his subconscious.

He elbowed his friend. Hard.

“Ngk. Whot did I do now?”

“Crowley, are you happy ?” asked the angel urgently.

“What the… happy ? ! You high or something, angel ? What’s the game ?“

“Answer my question !”

Crowley blinked. He didn’t need it, but he was surprised enough. Aziraphale had a deadly serious expression, one he hadn’t seen since Armaggedn't when he was raising his flaming sword at him, and he didn’t like that face at all, thank you very much. This seemed _serious_, so he answered seriously.

“Ah… yeah ? I enjoy m’self, m’happy enough. Nice day and all… why ?”

“No. Are you particularly happy ? Do you feel… content ?”

The demon blinked again. Thought a second. Then started to sweat, horror invading him.

“Why, Aziraphale ? What’s happening ?”

“You were… beaming to yourself.”

“I don’t beam ! ’m not a beamer, me !” he replied frantically.

“No. You’re not.”

Crowley buried his face in his hands, summoning all of his demonic powers to Feel… and smiled again widely. It was _delicious_. He was feeling soooo good… Something was about to happen and it would be _Right_. It would be so _Perfect_...

He jerked and met Aziraphale’s terrorised gaze.

“Oh, good lord… you’re… you look delighted, my dear.”

“I am ! Aziraphale, what do we do ? There isn’t much time, it’s coming close and the way I’m getting off right now it’s gonna be awful !”

“Where ? Do you sense a general direction ? What do you feel ?” The angel grabbed his hand, and it helped him douse his anxiety. He wasn’t alone, he’d got his angel. Together they could stop anything, yes ? They stopped bloody Armageddon !

He took a deep breath, hold on tightly to the angel’s hand, and dive.

Power. Hot. Pressure. A leak…

“Gas leak ! Big one ! Soon ! Lots of dead people soon, angel !”

He knew he was freaking out, but he was wired that way. You don’t survive 6000 years as a demon without a good “fight or flight” built-in system. A good one being the “always point to flight” one. (except of course if Aziraphale was attacked. Or asked him to stay and protect humanity with him. Or just looked at him like he knew of course Crowley would stay and do the right thing. Having an angel as a best friend was very exhausting sometimes). Right now all he wanted was to jump into his Bentley and ride far away from there as fast as possible.

“What direction, Crowley ?” Aziraphale’s voice was calm and level and so easy to focus on. He pointed and strangled his terror (if you are a demon with enough imagination, you can strangle almost anything).

“We have to get there quick, Aziraphale. It’s only minutes away.” It was London, for crying out loud. There were people everywhere._ Children_ everywhere ! Crowley was NOT for killing children. That wasn’t right. Free will was cool only if you were old enough to choose a side and make your bloody own decisions.

“Let’s go, then.” The angel was on his feet, raising an expectant eyebrow, and Crowley sighed inwardly. Then jumped to his feet and followed the trail. It wasn’t difficult. It pulled at him like crazy now he’d looked for it and sniffed it.

“Closer now. Left. Not far.” It became difficult to focus. The pull was getting too strong, and even talking was becoming harder. But he had to… concentrate. To fight the scream in his head that yelled “**GET-OUT-GET-OUT-RUN-YOU-SUCKER**” and follow the feeling of impending doom that sent delicious shivers all along his body. He felt like his head was about to explode.

A warm hand gently squeezed his right shoulder, and something soft and soothing suffused his corporation before spreading in his essence, destroying and burning everything that was even remotely restraining him. For a second, he just felt… nothing.

He took a shaky breath, fighting the tears that had gathered in his eyes at the relief it had been. There was no pull, no terror any more. It wouldn’t last, but Someone it was good. And he knew right away where to look.

“Here, angel ! Come !”

Aziraphale ran after Crowley, gathering all the strength he had left after what he’d just done. The demon, thank God, was so focused on his target he didn’t noticed how long he took for his friend to catch up.

“It’s there ! Underground !”

Of course it was. It had to be Down. The angel gathered every ounce of courage he still had. Since Armagedden’t and Crowley’s subsequent trial he’d acquired a very nasty and unwelcome claustrophobia and he intended to hide that from his demonic counterpart for as long as it took to get rid of it.

He snapped his fingers and they were both in the darkness of a sewer. Crowley summoned some demonic light and splashed to the left, kicking a door down. Then he stopped and pointed.

“There !”

Aziraphale joined him, looked, and thanked the Almighty he was already so terrified for so many reasons he just couldn’t feel worse. They had only seconds. They turned to each other by some sort of mutual agreement and shared a look. Then the angel sensed the demonic will gathering and braced himself. That was not going to be an easy day for any of them.

Time _stopped_.

Before his demon could utter a word, Aziraphale took the lead.

“I can fix it. Get out of range, I’ll use too much grace, it would hurt you. I’ll send a warning when you can let go.”

Crowley frowned, already sweating from the effect of his spell.

“Angel, it will take a fucking great miracle...”

“I know. I’ve got it.”

He added the only thing Crowley could never object to.

“Trust me.”

“’Kay. Be careful.”

The demon was gone in a blink. Aziraphale considered the engines currently NOT running, the sparks about to shoot, and the gas invading every inch of the room. The blast was not stoppable. He couldn’t use a miracle in the time loop, only prepare one, and it would take too great a miracle to stop such a level of entropy. The explosion would happen now. There was no other way. But he could… limit it.

He summoned rapidly the Grace he had left. That wasn’t much. He wasn’t allowed in Heaven any more, and recharging his angelic energy on earth took time. Discorporating Hastur only a month ago had taken a lot of it. He overreacted that day, he knew it, but he was awfully worried and angry and didn’t stop to think. Now he had to. He knew every single second was taxing for Crowley, that he must be in a lot of pain already, but he had to find _something_. Simply sacrificing himself was a last resort only solution. He wasn’t very keen on dying right now, and that would be dying, let’s face it. Heaven would never provide him another corporation nor let him walk in the divine realm like nothing happened. And he was fairly certain Crowley would NOT like that solution at all.

He closed his eyes, and gathered everything he’d got.

“NOW !”

This was Aziraphale’s true voice, the angelic one, and had the humans around him be aware of their surroundings and not frozen in time, they would only have heard thunder. Crowley let go.

And the ground shook, making him stumble, people yelling in fear and distress all around him. He got to his feet and looked. Almost everyone had fallen to the ground, but that was all. They were fine. He snapped his fingers.

There was smoke, and flames, and it was hot. There HAD been a blast, and he just didn’t understood _why_. It had been limited, so Aziraphale had done _something_, but the angel was supposed to work a bloody miracle and prevent it all, and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Panic was quickly rising in Crowley’s chest.

“Aziraphale ! Aziraphale where are you ? I...”

_I can’t find you._

This was a nightmare. It had to be. He had had this particular one so many times it just couldn’t be true, he was about to wake up.

That’s when he saw it. A glimpse of perfect white in a dark corner. He felt on his knees next to it. Aziraphale was curled up on himself, his face barely visible with the white feathers that surrounded his body like a cocoon. Like a shrine.

Crowley couldn’t even breathe. The angel looked so peaceful it hurt just to look at him. He knew this, this stance. He saw it back there. Right before the Fall. Brothers fighting brother. Swords slashing, angels on the floor, looking asleep in pools of ichor, with their wings just...curling tighter and tighter around their bodies, like spiders legs when…

“Oh, Aziraphale, don’t. Please don’t do that.” He extended his hand, not daring to touch the white curls of soft hair. “You here ? Do you hear me ? Just wake up, please. I’m sorry, wake up. ‘m sorry, angel.”

He didn’t even know what he was apologising for, but it didn’t matter. Aziraphale never let a _'sorry_' unanswered. He always forgave. Always. Even at the end, when he wouldn’t come, when sorry was not enough for him to follow Crowley to Alpha Centauri, he forgave.

But there wouldn’t be any more absolution. And Crowley wouldn’t forgive himself. He sensed it, like he had sensed it another day, not so long ago. Aziraphale was gone, none of his Grace remained. He let out a cry that sounded like a laugh. Of course. Of course he’d lost him. Everything he touched just became tainted and died. He’d knew 6000 years ago that he would destroy that bright and compassionate, stupid angel. But he just couldn’t stay away, right ? He was too selfish, and now his best (only, his only) friend had paid the price.

He couldn’t leave him here, in the dark. Aziraphale belong to the bookshop. He had to bring him back. That was the only thing left for him to do. He carefully pushed back a wing to access the angel’s shoulders…

And froze.

There was Grace. Aziraphale’s, without a shadow of a doubt. It was Aziraphale’s Grace, right here under his fingers, pulsing strongly.

He pulled back. He felt nothing. He was cold and empty and alone. His heart beating madly, he touched the wing again. Then a hand, a shoulder. Grace, everywhere. The angel was alive, very much so, but he kept his divine power inside, like…

“You clever bastard...”

Angels always radiated Grace, partly because of their nature, partly because they were the biggest self centred show off that ever existed. They did not hide it, or very rarely. But certainly not when unconscious. That was a demon thing. Every sleeping, hurt or unconscious demon hid their presence. Well, not ALL of them, but the ones that didn’t never survived very long Downstairs. Aziraphale had spent enough time with one particular demon to know that. Gathering his Grace inside, keeping it tight, was the best way to survive as long as possible when hurt. Almost impossible to be found by a rescue party, of course, which was why NO angel would ever even think of doing it. But Aziraphale knew he would be found, knew his demon wouldn’t stop until he’d reach him, and just took the best course of action, like the bloody genius _asshole_ he was.

“I was worried, you… you monster !” He reached out, lifted his friend’s upper body and settled it carefully against the wall before slapping the top of his head. Aziraphale didn’t flinch.

“Flames, you’ll kill me someday, angel. You’ll scare me into discorporation, I swear ! You’re worse than Spanish inquisition, honest !” Ranted the demon, pacing nervously from one wall to another.

“Do… shut up… dear”

Crowley spin so fast the movement was blurry.

“Angel ! You fine ? How d’you feel ?”

Aziraphale carefully folded his wings in ether and tried to stand. Crowley was there in half a second.

“Don’t move, stupid ! You’re too weak !”

“Did… did everyone...”

Of course he would be worried about the bloody humans !

“They’re fine. Just stop talking and rest.”

Aziraphale grasped his arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Are you hurt, Crowley ?”

“For fuck’s sake, angel ! I’m fine, think about yourself a little, will you ? For a change ?”

Aziraphale smiled softly, tiredly. “No need... You’re doing it for me... always have.”

And that… was that. Aziraphale sank in a regenerating slumber, his head on Crowley’s shoulder, and the demon was still trying to find a clever answer to that one hours later.


	3. Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is not exactly thrilled when a certain demon calls him completely wasted in the middle of the night asking to come pick him up.  
But of course he goes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried a complete Aziraphale POV because I feel bad... Just reread all of my stories and I'm always ending in Crowley's mind, it's like I'm jinxed !  
I love Aziraphale, I loved him these last 23 years, he always was my favorite character (sorry Crowley, please don't cry) and I just can't let him down like that !  
So... balance is restaured now.

Aziraphale sighed, carefully settling his book on his knee, a gloved finger marking his page, and picked up the phone. Only one being in the entire universe would have the _nerve_ to call at four in the morning.  
“Hello, dear.”

An enthusiastic voice answered him.  
“Annnnnngell !!! Mlost, angel… dunno wh… whot place I am…” A deep inhaling sound echoed in the receiver, followed by an enthusiastic yell “Come pick me up ! Drinks at the bookshh… bookz… at the thingy with books inside !”

Aziraphale frowned.  
“Crowley, are you drunk ?”

“Noooo… notatall ! M’not drunk ! Only drink… drunk… drank ? Only had two glassses ! Or... you know, five… Let’s drink more !”

“For the love of…” Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose, summoning all the patience he could muster, which wasn’t a lot when he just got interrupted in the middle of a delightful novel.

“I’m coming, don’t move.” His tone was clipped, but he just couldn’t be sorry about it. The undue hour, the book he had to abandon so unceremoniously, and for what ? A demon so sloshed he didn’t even know where he was.

A demon who just got wasted _without him_.

He huffed, took his coat, quickly searched for Crowley’s demonic energy, and disappeared.

He just had the time to notice his surroundings (an awfully disgusting alley) when something shoved him hard and he landed painfully on a bunch of dumpsters. Aziraphale hated to be touched, but the hand crushing his forearm didn’t make him want to jerk away, so it could only be Crowley’s.

“Don’t move” said the demon’s voice in a hush. “They’re here.”

The angel swallowed the complaint he was about to (loudly) deliver about his coat being wasted. Crowley was very tense, crouched next to him like he was about to bolt, fangs bared and eyes luminous. He looked like a tiger about to defend his territory. That was certainly a beautiful sight, but not a welcome one.

“Who ? Who are they, Crowley ?”

He scanned the alley with his angelic spirit. Crowley, madly gathering strength next to him, humans a little farther, dancing and drinking… nothing else.

“I can’t sense anything. What is it ?”

“Hellhounds, angel. Big ones.”

The angel scrambled desperately to his feet, an ice cold feeling running along his spine. They had to _RUN_.

“Crowley, quick, we have to take cover ! Come ! What are you doing ?”

He tried to pull his friend, grabbing his shoulder, but the demon seemed hypnotised.

“Too late. They’ve got me. Go, angel !”

He was shaking his left leg manically, pain written all over his face. Aziraphale let go of his shoulder and _leapt_, ready to smite anything he could get his hands on...

He landed on dust and mud, Crowley’s foot hitting him hard on the ribs as he tried to get up. He sat on his knees, watching his friend crawl backwards in terror, looking straight at… nothing.

Aziraphale shook his hand in front of the demon.

“Crowley ?

“They’ll kill me ! They’ll destroy me !”

His friend was obviously not even aware of his presence any more. He’d just talk to him seconds ago ! The demon cowered against a wall and started to whimper.

Aziraphale knew he should have been afraid. He should have, seeing the one being he cared the most about (and the only one to care for him in return, with one exception) in such a state. But he just couldn’t feel fear.

He felt _anger_. He felt _wrath_. He felt _rage_. And he would _find_ whoever made Crowley look that wretched and he would…

But later. He slowly approached the keening figure and crouched in front of it.

“Crowley” he murmured, so softly a human wouldn’t have heard a thing. “Crowley, it’s me. It’s Aziraphale. Can you hear me ?”

He laid his hand on the demon’s knee. Crowley’s breath hitched.

“Angel ?”

“Yes, I’m here, Crowley.”

“They’re here, they came for me ! They’ll take me back, angel !”

“They will do no such thing, dear. I will **_not_** let them.” And he said that with all the assurance his Angelic Voice could force upon a demonic mind. Crowley blinked. He had lost his glasses some minutes ago and his pupils were so dilated his eyes were almost black.

“You’ll stop them ?”

“I will.”

“You promess?”

“Of course I promise, Crowley. I will not let anyone take you anywhere.”

Slowly, Aziraphale started to reach to his friend’s mind, laying his hand on the back of his neck to make him feel his presence. It was really difficult, erasing fear from a demon’s mind. It would be very easy to destroy some of the demon himself without noticing. A little like trying to destroy a sudden day to day happy feeling from an angel’s mind and erasing some of his inherent hopefulness in the process, crippling him forever. It was almost impossible to make out one from the other.

Aziraphale didn’t hesitate one second, though. He _knew_ his demon’s mind like any of his beloved books, and he would always be able to tell the difference betwixt his core, the essence of his being, and… anything else, really.

He carefully peeled the terror away, tugging inch by inch, his grace slowly working a delicate but strong miracle. Crowley’s heartbeat was calming down against his hand, and the demon’s forehead came resting against the angel’s shoulder. Crowley would hate to be seen in such a fragile state. Aziraphale greeted his teeth. Somebody was going to _pay_ for this. He expanded his wings, folded them around them both, and made they appeared in the back room of the bookshop.

For several minutes, he just stayed there, head spinning a little, holding on to Crowley like an anchor. He ended up slapping himself mentaly and got up to lay his friend on the couch with some difficulty.

He was bone tired. But he had something else to do before being able to rest. He gently took Crowley’s head between his hands and assured that his sleep will be deep and free of any nightmare for some hours.

Time to go.

Following Crowley’s path was not very difficult. The demon was flashy in every possible way, and his ethereal trace was easy to track back. It led him in front of a nightclub. Of course.

The barman recognised the description instantly.

“Lanky, red haired, sunglasses ? Yeah, he was there 'till the fight started.”

The angel sighed.

“Big fight ? Half of the bar against the other because of something stupid someone said, but nobody actually remembers who said it ?”

“No ! It wasn’t stupid, it was football !”

He sighed again. _Lord, give me strength._

“Alright. Did you see him discuss with anyone before that… totally accidental and unpredictable brawl ?”

“Nah. Just stayed there, had a drink and smirked a lot.”

“One drink only ?” That couldn't be right. There must have been something else.

“Yeah. A beer. Oh, and the shot.”

“Somebody **SHOOT** him ?” Cried Aziraphale, devastated. He didn’t noticed ! What if it was a mortal wound ? Crowley couldn’t discorporate now, it was too dangerous !

The barman laughed.

“You had a few yourself, eh ? A shot ! Like, the drink. I made a few for regulars, offered him one.”

Oh. _Really_. A drink with a killing name. How human.

“What is that exactly ? Are there drugs in that ?”

“Hey, man ! No ! Don’t say things like this here ! T’was just a little thing I invented. Really popular here ya know ! Wanna try ?”

Well. One drink wouldn’t hurt. And he had a dreadful night, after all. He noded. Liquid courage would help pursuing his enquiries.

“Thank you, that would be nice.”

The bartender started mixing funny looking liquids from several bottles. It was quite agreable to watch.

“That’s a lovely green. What is it ?”

“Cactus. That’s real good.”

“Is that salt ? In a drink ?”

“Yep, gives it a little kick. That’s the secret ingredient, y’a know.”

“What about the yellow one ?”

“Sage alcohol. Not good alone, but a few drops in the cactus syrup just...”

The bartender suddenly stopped talking. The entire nightclub felt silent under an ominous pressure coming from... everywhere.

“You mixed salt. With sage. And _gave it_ to him.”

Everyone suddenly felt like going home really quick, and soon there were just an angel and a bartender in an empty building.

“What… what happened ?” the young man blinked furiously, feeling like something was choking him. He gasped, starting to panic without a reason.

A hand grabbed him hard by the collar.

Aziraphale’s eyes were cold as ice as he gathered divine power in his fist. Much more than needed to eradicate an insignificant human existence.

He opened his mouth, trembling with rage.

“You, Josh Kendal, will forget that _bloody_ recipe and never remember it for the rest of you life !”

Then he let him go. He just couldn’t smite the poor boy. He never intended to hurt. He just offered a drink to a lonely man in sunglasses.

He straightened his jacket, feeling quite put out. There was no one to punish, and that was unfair after all that stress. He walked with a dissatisfied air towards the door. Then stopped and turned.

“Oh. And you will go home and propose to Ashley. Really, it’s been seven years and you love each other, stop hesitating, you are ridiculous !”

There was a snap. Josh blinked. He was alone. He felt like he should have remembered something, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

Were they closed already ? Everything was neat and tidy. Much more so than most closing times, to be honest.

Well… no point in staying. Ashley would be thrilled to have him home so early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see it ? DID YOU SEE IT !  
Yes, exactly ! No tag for prompt #21 : Laced Drink.  
I said I would do every 31 prompts, and I will (try).  
I'm completly mad...


	4. Human Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mugger mistakes Aziraphale for an easy prey and decides to scare him to obtain his wallet.  
This does not go as he had expected.  
Like... at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one !

“Don’t move ! Nobody moves or the kid gets it !”

The man was holding the little boy tightly, his right arm around his neck, his left holding one of the most scary knife Aziraphale had seen this last decade against the poor child’s throat. A movement of a mere millimetre would open the fragile skin.

The situation was, to say the least, very dire indeed.

“Oh, dear me… where is my… ah ! Here it is !” The angel pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket’s pocket, holding a finger at the kidnapper.

“Just one second, please. I have to take that call.”

The man spluttered, unsettled. “What are you... I took your son and I WILL kill him he you don’t give me your wallet !”

“Oh no, you are quite mistaken, my dear. This young man is not my son. I don’t have any children. It would be inconsiderate of me to even think of it... Shush now, I’m trying to pick up. I think I have to press the blue thing...”

The mugger blinked. He was not used to that kind of reaction. The boy shuffled against him. At least this one knew fear.

“Sir ? Can I pick up my lollipop ? T’s a cherry one, and I don’t want it to be wasted. I still can rub it on my sleeve, it will be okay.”

The angel raised his eyes from his phone, visibly offended.

“You will do _no_ such thing, Adam Young ! This is disgusting ! I’ll buy you a new one... Oh, hello Crowley. Yes, I know we’re late… yes, but… let me expl… no, I’m not LOST ! I know where the theatre is, Crowley !”

Ignoring is godfather’s bickering, the antichrist turned his head to look at his kidnapper.

“Maybe you should let me go, now ? It was fun, but Aziraphale doesn’t like being late, and Crowley really has a thing about children and violence, you know. I think it would be a good idea to stop all that now. there is no point in taking people’s money anyway. Plus, that’s not nice. T’was real exiting and all that, but I want to see the Lion king. Crowley told me they danced like_ crazy_ !”

“I am telling you it is **not** my fault ! That man just delayed us ! Yes, _of course_ I can handle it, but you called, and it would have been rude not to pick up ! Right. Sir, will you just release Adam now and put that awful knife away. It is really becoming quite ridi...”

A lank man in trousers so tight it seemed painted on him just appeared out of nowhere, phone in hand.

“Knife ? What knife ? What happened to Adam ?”

Then he took the scene in. Adam waved.

“Hey, uncle Crowley.”

“Angel, what the fucking FUCK ?”

“Language ! Adam can hear you !”

“Oh… oh yeah, you’re right, the swearing is Adam’s most pressing problem right now. He’s got a bloody blade at his bloody throat, angel !”

“Yes, I saw, I am not blind, dear ! Oh, my, look at the time ! We will never make it… if we had gone to Phantom of the Opera like I suggested, _none_ of that would have happened.”

“It’s too spooky !”

“I thought you rather liked spooky.”

“I do. Kids don’t. Angel, what in_ heaven_ are you doing ?”

“I am summoning a taxi. We will need a ride if we want to get there in time.”

“We can teleport, Aziraphale !”

“No, we are having a nice evening with our godson, and we will have it the human way !”

“You sure you’re not forgetting something ? Hmm ?”

The two men turned back to the kidnapper and his prey. The flashy bastard was really frightening, and the gay teacher gave him the creeps, with is mild manners and calm voice.

“Don’t try anything ! You can’t hurt me without hurting the kid !” He gripped the boy tighter.

“Wanna bet ?” The ginger grinned, showing way too many teeth, and took a step forward.

His companion huffed.

“Oh, really, this is becoming quite ridiculous. Adam, we will never have enough time to buy you the salted popcorn you wanted if we do not go now.”

The kid made a face.

“Sorry, sir. That was fun ! My friends will be so _jealous_ when I’ll tell them I’ve been an hostage ! I have to go now. Maybe you should, you know. Sleep it off or something.”

There was a “thump” and Adam joined his godfathers, hands in his pockets. Voices faded in the distance.

“T’s alright, angel, we’ll miracle some popcorn.”

“It is not the same. Miracled food just tastes _wrong_...”

“We’ll miracle away the waiting line, then.”

“Oh. That should work. Splendid idea, my dear !”

The taxi doors slammed . The mugger snored. When waking up he would be overwhelmed by a sudden urge to register to university and become a veterinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so love Adam. He will definitely come back in other stories.


	5. Gunpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever wonder where the mysterious men trying to buy the booshop disappeared ?  
I did. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know what to do and who to put at gunpoint, then I just remembered Aziraphale during the Blitz, and I wanted to see him in a pinch again.

Aziraphale was humming happily, holding the little box carefully with both hands while crossing the street without looking. Cars miraculously avoided him as he smiled, imagining himself back home in his armchair, placing the box on his coffee table and lifting the lid to enjoy delightful patisserie...  
With a slight spring in his steps, he reached the pavement in front of his bookshop in a full-fledged concerto of horns.  
His hand twitched on the doorknob. Well, that wasn’t right.

  
“Oh, dear me. I wanted to be left alone today...”

  
He entered with a sigh and found himself face to muzzle with a nasty looking revolver. Or was it what they called an automatic ? He just didn’t know what the difference was, if there was ever one. Well, it was a gun.  
Unlike his encounter with such an appalling tool during the blitz, he didn’t even blinked. He frowned instead, lips tightening as he saw one of the men holding a can of fuel near his books.

  
“May I help you, gentlemen ?” he asked with such a brittle tone it could have cut steel. The man who was sitting at his desk offered a predatory smile.

“Yes, Mr Fell. I believe you may. See, we need your signature on this document. And you will sign it, I can assure you. You see, unlike your earlier allegation, we are not gentlemen.”

One of the hand-man interjected “I don’t see why not ! Me mum raised me good, I can be a bloody gentleman if I want !”  
Aziraphale nodded appreciatively.

“That is absolutely true. Evil is not obligated to be crass. A very good friend of mine is highly demonic as well as extremely well mannered. Well… when he puts his mind to it, of course…”

“You can talk to your heart’s content, Mr Fell… I don’t mind. Soon you will be yelling...”

  
Good Lord, the man thought himself spiritual. Aziraphale hated that kind of being, convinced to be the brightest in every room they enter only because they knew how to write “semantic”. That was appalling. Will Shakespeare was probably turning in his tomb every time this one opened his mouth.

  
“I really am sorry, but I’m afraid we’re closed. You will have to come back another day. I am supposed to dine at an adorable Greek restaurant tonight and I have a lot to...”

  
The gun pressed against his temple. The angel stopped talking.  
A phone rang. Everyone stared at the old backelite device.

  
“This… I must answer this. It’s opening hour, it will seem suspect !”

The leader of the thugs smiled.

“I don’t think so. Everyone knows you’re almost never open.”

  
After a last shrilling ring, the phone fell silent.  
Aziraphale’s mobile started ringing.

  
“Oh dear...”

It had to be Crowley, asking him if he remembered they were supposed to eat out. Just because he forgot about diner one time two years ago and spent two hours reading while the demon got in a frenzy, he was now considered as some irresponsible child.

“I have to pick up ! This is…” He hesitated. How to convey the absolute certainty that Crowley would NOT just discard his phone if Aziraphale didn’t answer ?

“It’s my husband. He’ll come if I don’t answer.”

And it was an absolute truth. The demon would come, oh yes he would. And it would be messy. Aziraphale shuffled his feet uncertainly. He had to avoid that at all cost.

“Your husband ? You’re married ? To a man ?” one of the men who hadn’t spoke so far snarled with contempt.

Oh, really. This whole business was becoming more and more irritating.

“Pick up. But don’t try something clever, or you’re done for.”

  
Even Aziraphale found the line cheesy, and that was saying a lot. He picked up.  
Acting like he was talking to his hypothetical husband was not very difficult. Humans were prone to hear exactly what they wanted to hear and not question themselves about an eventual second meaning.

  
“Hello, my dear.”

“Where are you ? I phoned the bookshop first.”

“Just got home” He tried to convey a cheery tone. Crowley should NOT come now.

“M’coming in an hour, angel. I won’t wait outside ! Either you get out as soon as I’m here, or I go to the restaurant without you.”

“There is no need to be cranky, dear. I will be ready.”

“You better be !”

  
Crowley cut the conversation. Well. The demon was not in a good moon. His last vile had probably gone awry.

  
“Well done, Mr Fell. Now, about these papers...”

A stack of white sheets seemed to suddenly appear on the desk. That was impressive. It would have seem like magic for anything other than ethereal eyes.

“Ready to sign ?”

“I have already told you I will _not_ sell… now, maybe if you were to lead me to...”

  
The door opened with a bang. Aziraphale huffed.

  
“Whaz happening here ?” Crowley barged in with only a hint of a swagger. His eyes felt on the can of fuel and widened like saucers.

Well. That was it, then.

Crowley didn’t like being reminded of the fire. He didn’t even like seeing someone lighting a cigarette at less than twenty feet of the bookshop. The outcome was obviously… obvious.

“What’you doing here, angel ? What’s WRONG with you ?” He snapped, and the offending can vanished. The five men were not going to have such luck. They were all petrified, in every sense of the word.

“I knew what I was doing ! You ruined it all, Crowley !”

“Ruined ? You were having a gun at your head, Aziraphale ! And what about the tank of bloody gasoline ?”

The angel sighed, looking at the mess. Well, none of them was going to speak now. Or ever.

“I wanted them to take me to their...”

“Don’t say leader, please. I would hate for you to say that. You only hear that sentence in B movies.”

“Boss. To their boss ! So I could stop HIM. Well, I guess I will have to wait for the next gentlemen, then.”

“Hey, don’t blame me ! You’re the one not talking about that kind of stuff. Wouldn’t have interfered if I knew !”

“Yes, yes, I know. I wanted to deal with it by myself. How did you even know they were there ? I was very cautious on the phone !”

“Cautious !” Barked his friend laughingly. “You said you “Just got home”, angel. I could have overlooked a contraction, but erasing a _subject_ ? Nah. Came as fast as possible.”

The angel smiled.

“You are such a dear, Crowley.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, will you, you prick.”

The demon’s tone was too fond for Aziraphale to take offence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand... Crowley just ruined it. We will never know HOW exactly Aziraphale intended to fix the problem.


	6. Dragged Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has made a new friend. A certain demon does not like it.  
At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my opinion, Crowley is the kind of character that will freak out and torture himself for hours just imagining things. He really asks too many questions sometimes. To himself, I mean.

As soon as Crowley entered the bookshop this particular afternoon, he recognised a faint human scent he’d already committed to memory some months ago.  
He slithered his way around the shelves to the door to the back room and looked inside.  
Yep, that was the smart kid girl who asked tricky questions.

She grew up a little and seemed quite at ease in her chair, holding a cup of cocoa with both hands, speaking enthusiastically. Aziraphale didn’t look any better, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks, looking so… attentive.

Just what he had feared. The angel was smitten. It hadn’t happened in the last eighty years, and Crowley had became quite used at being the recipient of his friend’s undivided attention. It had to stop one day.

So… a future writer. There was no argument here. The kid would become a writer even if she didn’t know it yet. Aziraphale had flair for that. He was a freakin’ literary bloodhound.

He knew what he was feeling was jealousy. he knew it was stupid, but he was a bloody demon, and possessiveness was hard to erase from his system sometimes.  
He hated that. It was ugly and petty and the angel deserved better than this kind of crap.

So he just put a brief smile on his face and got straight to his sofa like every day.

“Hey, angel. Kid.”

“Why, hello my dear ! You already know Jean. Jean, this is my friend Crowley. I am not sure you have been properly introduced last time.”

The girl smiled a little shyly. He nodded back. Difficult to like her, difficult not to. Kids were not easy to resent.

“Do you intend to nap, Crowley ? We can move if you do.”

“No. S’alright, I don’t mind.”

He closed his eyes and tried his hardest not to listen to the sheer joy in the angel’s voice as the conversation resumed. They were exchanging literary views on an obscure French poem. The one about a dead star and a black sun Aziraphale could ramble about for hours. Why did the angel love gloomy writings so much ?

Crowley was quite proud of his French. As any demon he was very good at tongues. But he just didn’t understand a thing about that one. The man should have been admitted to an asylum right after writing that, in his opinion.

He listened to the girl’s voice going on and on about melancholy, esoterism and mysteries, listened to his friends voice humming in approval and answering excitedly.  
He was feeling awful, questions whirling in his mind furiously, like every time THIS happened.  
Did Aziraphale missed that kind of conversation when in his company ? They talked all right, but books just weren’t his thing. Sure, he’d read many of them, more than most humans in their lives, but he’d been there six thousand years, that wasn’t a feat. Anyway he preferred comedy, and avoided the kind of reading his angel favoured, even if he still forced himself to read at least his friend’s favourites.

Books were eighty percent of Aziraphale’s life. And he just couldn’t talk about it. Not like the angel wanted it. Did he get bored when they were spending time together ? Was he forcing himself to address other subjects just to please Crowley ? How could he really enjoy himself talking about ducks and dolphins when he could just sit here with someone so much more interesting ? The girl had a brilliant mind, she obviously knew what she was talking about, and when Aziraphale gasped at one of he comment, before reluctantly agreeing to some kind of insight she had on a particular sentence, he just wished for the sofa to swallow him and make him disappear forever.

Was it why they drank so much together ? So Aziraphale could numb his brain enough to stoop to his level and actually enjoy the conversation ?

The only thing he got over the angel’s humans was immortality. He would still be there when that girl would have departed for a worse world (any world after earth was worse).

He had no illusion about that. Aziraphale befriended him because there was just no one else to befriend. Because they kept bumping into each other, decades after decades. He just got… used to Crowley.

But he wasn’t bright, not like the angel. Aziraphale loved bright and sharp minds, and was always attracted to them like a bee to honey. No, bees were making honey. What was attracted to honey, then ?

There ! See ! He WAS stupid ! And of course Aziraphale had made a new friend, a young one at that, who will last at least fifty years, and they would bound closer and closer and he was just no match. Now that the angel was free of heaven’s scrutiny, he could mingle with humanity to his heart’s content, talk and laugh and enjoy interesting minds, and Crowley would end up all by himself, just like he should be…

He realised suddenly that a heavy silence had fallen. Opening his eyes, he realised he was alone.  
Well… better get used to it. He swallowed a lump, pushed his glasses firmly in place, blinking furiously.

« Crowley. What’s wrong, dear boy ? »

The angel’s voice was so close he startled.

« Ah. Where’s your friend, angel ?

“She had to go. It was closing time.”

“Won’t be before half an hour” responded the demon automatically. He knew the shop’s hours by heart.

“Well, I felt like closing early. You didn’t seem to be alright. What happened?”

Crowley saw the concern written on his angel’s face, heard the edge in his voice. Great, he’d worried him! Way to go, boy, real smooth!

“Nothing, really, it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. Something is off, and I think I know what, but I can assure you...”

Crowley hastily interrupted.

“There’s no trouble, really ! I understand, angel ! I’m happy you have someone to talk to like that, it’s okay really !”

Aziraphale seemed surprised.

“I thought you were worried about Hastur coming again.”

“Oh. Oh, no. M’not.”

“What do you mean, then ? Someone to talk to like what exactly ? I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“Whot ? Ah… you know...”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“Well… you know, angel. Smart people to talk to. You like that.”

“Indeed, I do. But why do you say it’s okay ? Why wouldn’t it be okay ?” The angel was clearly confused.

“Well, just in case you thought I cared. I don’t, really. I’m cool. You need that kind of things, you know. You’d been bored to death in a century without it.”

Aziraphale raised a hand.

“Hold on. Do you… do you think your conversation is boring, Crowley ?”

“… no ?” answered the demon tentatively. Thin ice, there, he could sense it.

“You’re lying. You think it is !” Accused the angel.

“No, I’m not boring. Just, sometimes, you know. T’must be… to you at least. So you know, you need clever people to talk to about books and stuff.”

His friend seemed horrified.

“You think I… COLLECT clever humans to make up for your imaginary failings ?”

“NO ! Of course not ! I know you care for them, angel, don’t think I don’t !” How ? How did that conversation got this bad so quickly ?

He thought his answer had been the good one this time, but it visibly was NOT.

“You think I collected YOU to pass the time between two interesting humans, then ?”

“… no ?”

“You just LIED ! How on earth can you think so low of yourself ? That’s just stupid !”

“I don’t think I’m stupid !”

“You lied again ! You do ! You do think you’re stupid !” Aziraphale was getting frantic and his eyes were way too light to Crowley’s liking. That kind of ice blue meant trouble. But he was starting to get worked up himself. If the angel wanted a shouting contest, then…

“Oy ! If I want to think I’m dumb and useless I’ll bloody well do ! I’m entitled to think whatever I want about myself, you know !”

He brusquely found himself dragged out of the sofa and pinned to the wall, and that was angelic wrath written all over the familiar face in front of him. For the first time in six thousand years, Crowley got scared of Aziraphale.

“NO you are NOT !” The voice boomed so loudly books fell to the floor. Even if he had been able to, Crowley couldn’t have moved. He felt frozen under the icy stare, unable to move like… well, like a mouse in front of a snake.

“How DARE you ! I will not allow anyone to speak or even think that kind of shit about you in my presence ! Anyone, you hear me ? Now get OUT of here and don’t come back until you’re ready to bloody apologize !”

Crowley found himself dragged again like a ragged doll towards the entry, and stumbled on the pavement. The door banged loudly behind him and he didn’t dare turn around. On the other side of the street, the janitor of one of the buildings was whispering furiously with the florist next door. Both women sent him a commiserating smile.

He didn’t even know what had just happened. Or how he’d gotten into so much trouble without even trying. He started walking wobbly towards the Bentley, then decided he’d rather walk home.

There was only one certainty on his mind right now : getting back in his angel’s good grace would require a furious amount of chocolates and a lot of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that wasn't a very happy ending, but that demon needed it. I think I will write the next chapter taking place just after that. I'll feel bad if I leave them like that.


	7. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly following the "dragged away" chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I felt guilty over the last chapter, and I just couldn't leave the boys like that. So I had to write the following. Happy endings are my life after all, even if I am the crowned queen of Angst^^

Crowley was pacing his apartment, pulling at his hair frantically while yelling at himself.  
“What a jerk ! ‘M a complete **MORON** !”

  
He still didn’t understand exactly what he’d done, but some nagging feeling was telling him it was absolutely his fault. He didn’t like it.  
Okay. So, he’d been jealous. Green eyed monster was not a cute one, but he was fairly certain that was not what had rendered Aziraphale mad.  
What had he said exactly ? That he was stupid (well, not in that exact phrasing). That he felt he was lacking compared to the angel’s humans friends. Yes, but it was true, and that wasn’t a reason to go cold berserk.

  
It’s not like he doubted the angel, after all. He just doubted himself. So why ? Why had Aziraphale reacted so angrily ?  
He was not made for uncertainty. He hated that. Not knowing was an awful feeling, he needed to understand. That’s what got him cast out of Heaven, and he was not going to stop now.  
There was a technique he’d acquired two millennia ago for understanding some of the angel’s strangest reactions.  
What would I have felt ?

  
Hmmm… he’d got imagination enough for that. So, what if Aziraphale had said all this to him ?  
How did it all begin ? Ah yes, the angel had asked if he found himself a boring conversationalist… that’s when he’d started to get tense.  
Well… he wouldn’t have liked his friend depreciating himself either. But he would never have thrown him out for that.  
Then it had just escalated. And Aziraphale had asked Crowley if he saw himself as some kind of means for the angel to pass the time between two interesting humans…

  
Oh.  
Oh... fuck.  
He'd insulted him. He'd _insulted_ Aziraphale, telling him he didn’t believe his friendship was genuine.  
Just imagining his angel saying that to him was devastating. He had thought for the last months that the worst sentence he could ever hear was “I don’t even like you”. But imagining Aziraphale saying “You don’t even like me” and _thinking it_ was so, so much worse.

  
But he didn’t believe THAT ! He didn’t think that of Aziraphale. It had sounded like it but it wasn’t TRUE, and he had to do something, to fix this… he must fix this this instant !  
Crowley was frantic now. He’d done it this time, he’d destroyed it all, right ? There was absolutely no way the angel would ever trust him again.  
He looked around him helplessly. What should he do now ? He had to find a way to explain himself. Any way.  
But could he even come back ? Will he be welcome ? If he showed up at the bookshop and the door didn’t open for him like it always did, it would mean there was no side for him any more. No Heaven, no Hell, no Aziraphale.

  
Well he couldn’t have THAT. Crowley was a coward, but he would not run this time. There was nowhere to run to if it was without the angel.  
Chocolates. Just to be on the safe side, just to get in. Chocolates, and maybe flowers, the angel liked them. And a lot of explaining. A great lot of apologising. He wasn’t the begging type, but he would beg (crawl, even, he was fairly certain he still knew how to do it) as long at it took to have his friend listen to him.  
He snatched his keys and stomped to the door, opening it in a hurry. A loud “thud” echoed in the corridor, followed by the sound of a body dropping. He looked down and paled.

  
“Aziraphale !”  
The angel looked back, his face really serious.  
“Crowley, you...”  
“Sorry ! M’sorry, angel !” He extended his hand by reflex before realising the move was probably unwelcome. But Aziraphale took it without a word and got up stiffly.  
“Crowley… don’t apologise. No, stop !” he added as the demon opened his mouth “you really shouldn’t. I am sorry. I never should have done… whatever I did. It was awful of me. You were having a hard time and I should have helped you. Instead I have been nothing but horrible to you. I hope you can forgive me, but I would understand if you didn’t want to see me around for a while...”

  
Crowley gaped.  
“You_ kidding_ me ? You were right, angel ! I… really, I...”  
And then he understood. Aziraphale’s face said it all. They were both miserable, they were both feeling awful, and they were both very, **very** stupid.  
He looked at his feet. The angel looked at the door. An awkward silence fell.

  
“You… wanna come in ?”  
“Yes, thank you, d… thank you.”  
This was_ worst_ than being thrown out of the bookshop. Aziraphale didn’t dare call him “dear” any more. Well, he felt even worse than before now. He couldn’t believe his friend was feeling so guilty.

  
His hand just acted on his own volition for the second time and he grabbed the angel’s arm as he walked past him.

It took him a minute to find the right words.  
“Thank you, angel.”  
Aziraphale couldn’t have looked more stunned.  
“Thank… me ? Whatever for ?”  
“Defending me. Being ready to kick the shit out of anyone badmouthing me. I thought you’d smite me back there, and that’s the nicest thing anyone ever did for me. You’re the best Godamn friend that ever existed.”

  
For a moment, the angel just stared, his eyes suddenly way too shiny, then Crowley found himself engulfed in the tightest hug he’d ever known. Aziraphale was NOT a huger, and that said a lot. He returned the movement awkwardly, his heart swelling in his chest, blinking furiously to get rid of a freaking dust in his eye (it was a dust, and nothing else AT ALL).

  
“Any time, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one will be a very happy and fluffy one ! I need it !  
(Looks at the prompts)  
... STAB WOUND ? SERIOUSLY ?


	8. Stab Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hurt Crowley seeks help from his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A light and fluffy one, as promised !

It was a quiet night at the bookshop. Aziraphale had a cocoa, a book and a sheet of paper to take notes. He sighed with contentment. This kind of perfect, peaceful moments were always reminding him why preventing Armageddon had felt so right.  
He was delicately turning a page when the door opened brusquely, sending a cold drift in his direction. He heaved another sigh, a slightly annoyed one this time. He had closed the door hours ago. Only one being other than himself could open it. He’d made sure of _that_.  
He began talking while closing his book carefully, getting up and finally turning.

  
“Crowley, dear, why didn’t you call ? Not that I dislike your company, but you could at least warn me before barging in like...”  
He stopped abruptly at the sight of his friend.  
“Crowley… You’re _hurt_ !”  
“Really ? I didn’t notice” answered the demon in what supposed to be a sarcastic voice, but only achieved to appear aching. He was teetering in the entryway, pupils dilated in pain, glasses hanging from one hand, the other pressed at his side. Black ichor was running through his fingers.

  
Aziraphale hurried to help his friend walk to the back room and lie down on the couch before looking at him attentively.  
“You’re bleeding ! And your aura… it’s not good ! What happened ?”  
He was ripping the demon’s shirt like a tissue without a care, eager to access the wound as soon as possible, and Crowley smirked weakly.  
“You should at least offer me a drink before stripping me, angel. You’re lucky you’re cute.” He tried to wink without effect.  
“Do you really think it’s the right time for that kind of joke, Crowley ?” Aziraphale concentrated healing grace in his palm, and laid it on the wound. The demon bit back a cry.  
“Ngk. T’s always the right time.”  
“I can’t heal it properly ! Who attacked you ?” The angel blanched suddenly as a thought occurred to him.  
“Was it Hastur ? Are you _hunted_ ?”  
“No. Nope. Human. Just… saw my eyes, that’s all. Stabbed me.”  
“This can’t be all. I can’t close it, I barely managed to stop the bleeding. Something’s off. And your aura is damaged too.

  
Aziraphale stopped his ministration (there was nothing more he could do for his friend’s corporation, he realised) and reached with his grace. His eyes suddenly widened.  
“Good Lord, something _HOLY_ touched you !”  
Crowley nodded.  
“Yeah. Feels like it. Blessed blade, probably.”  
Aziraphale started stitching the demon’s occult essence with his ethereal one, lips tight in a stern line.  
“This is _monstrous_. Who would do such a thing ?”  
“Dunno... Some freakin’ saint guy ? Definitely will end on your side, this one.”  
“I shall think NOT !” Stabbing someone only because he saw weird eyes !  
“You think they’re weird ?” the demon tentatively reached for his glasses on the coffee table. The angel’s hand stopped him.  
“They’re lovely. But you have to admit that to a human they could appear strange.”  
Crowley barked a laugh, but stopped his search.  
“Try bloody frightening.”  
“Yes, yes, you are quite fearsome, my dear” answered the angel placatingly before humming in satisfaction.  
“There, that’s better. I need bandages for the wound. You will be back to your annoying self in a day or two.”  
Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically.

  
A first aid kit appeared in the angel’s hand and he helped his friend sit before starting bandaging his torso.  
“Where is the gentleman who did this to you, Crowley ?”  
The angel’s voice was carefully neutral. It didn’t fool his friend one second.  
“Discorporated.”  
Aziraphale recoiled in surprise. Some warmth returned to his eyes as he remembered to blink for the first time since Crowley’s arrival.  
“Humans don’t discorporate, my dear.”  
“This one did.”  
The angel bit back a smile. this would definitely not be an angelic reaction.  
“Oh, dear. You just can’t enjoy a nice, calm evening, can you ? How do you always manage to end in that kind of trouble ?”  
The demon grinned as best he could.  
“T’s a gift. Plus, calm is no fun, angel. Calm’s boring.”  
“Well, I am ever so grateful for you to suffer all of these_ boring_ evenings here in my company” replied his friend, raising an eyebrow.  
Crowley waved a hand regally.  
“You’re welcome. Ow !”  
“Oh, I am SO sorry. Did I tighten it too much ?”  
Crowley shot him a glare. The angel returned it serenely.  
“A little.” he finally answered through greeted teeth.  
“Well, maybe you should let me work in silence. I happen to be easily distracted.”  
Crowley turned his head with a pout, secretly delighted. His angel could be such a prick, it was just adorable.

  
“Is it OK for me to stay a couple days ? Don’t want to intrude.”  
“Well, that’s new. It never bothered you before.”  
“Come on, annnngeeeel...”  
Aziraphale smiled.  
“Of course you can, you silly thing. But first, let me find that blessed blade. Were did it happen ?”  
“Not really far, five minutes maybe. Just… follow the blood. I heard it fall. Didn’t want to try to pick it up.”  
“Well, that was probably the wisest decision. All right, then, stay here, I’ll be back in a jiffy. Do you want something to drink ?  
Crowley smiled genuinely, and patted his friend’s hand.  
“Nah. Not without you.”  
“Well, I’ll open a bottle when I’m back, then. Don’t try to get up.”  
The demon made a complicated gesture.  
“Cross my heart.”

Crowley dozed of for the next forty minutes before starting to worry. That wasn’t that far, was it ? The angel should have been back. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty and dialled Aziraphale’s mobile.  
Which rang on his desk. Oh, great.  
He tried to sense the angel’s aura, but his was way too weak for that. Blessed blade were no joke. He was already lucky he didn’t discorporate. Only an angel could heal that kind of wound.  
Were_ was_ the angel ?

  
He waited five more minutes before trying to reach a sitting position. He had to get up and…  
The doorbell stopped him mid movement. Footsteps were closing in. He relaxed, recognising them.  
“Well, it’s done” said the angel in a clipped tone, opening one of the bottom drawers of his desk and carefully placing a package inside then dropping a small book on the desk.  
“What happened ? Took you ages.”  
Aziraphale fussed with his cufflinks. Oh, something was definitely amiss.  
“Come on, angel, spit it out. I have the feeling it will either be really funny or absolutely infuriating.”  
“Oh, I’m sure I know which one _you_ will choose.”  
Crowley _grinned_.  
“Tell me everything.”  
Aziraphale pouted.  
“Well… if you really want to know, some gentlemen were there, searching for their friend. I… questioned them, nicely of course, and it appears they are some kind of weird demon hunters.  
“That’s a THING ? I thought there was no more left since the crusades !”  
“So did I ! So I asked them more details, and they have something like a convent, here in London, and they hunt at night. Called themselves the Knights of the Order of Wessex. They told me they already killed one demon a month ago, and they all were hunting another one tonight in Soho.”  
“They _killed_ someone before they found me ?”  
Aziraphale smiled.  
“I do not think so. He had totally black eyes, white hair, the body disappeared... AND he was carrying buckets.”  
“What’s up with Hastur and these freakin’ _buckets_ ?”  
“I have absolutely no idea. Anyway, he won’t be back for a while.”  
“Shit. ‘M sorry, angel. Didn’t know humans could spot me in your neighbourhood. I’ll try to keep a low profile.”

  
Aziraphale blushed and avoided his eyes.  
“No need for that. They described to me the demon they were hunting. They heard some talk about an... entity who... seemed to reside int he neighbourhood. Middle aged, a little pudgy, blond hair. Dresses like last century, and _never_ ages. I think I am the reason you got hurt, dear.” finished Aziraphale with a guilty expression.  
Crowley tried very hard to stifle a delighted giggle.  
“Oh, go on, you can laugh. I’ll have to move now” declared his friend gloomily.  
“Course not. We’ll find a way to make you noteUNworthy again. Would be easier if you...”  
“I will not change my clothes. I like them.”  
The demon gestured placatingly.  
“Cool. Cool, no problem. We’ll work a little miracle. So what did you do about this Order of Wessex ? Why ‘Wessex’ anyway.”  
“They thought it_ sounded_ good !” exploded his friend. “I erased their minds of all demonic-related memories and sent them on their merry way. Then I visited their so-called headquarters and took the minutes of their reunions. It looked really messy, to be honest. They were lucky they didn’t kill an innocent passerby wearing original contact lenses. We’re in Soho, for crying out loud !”  
“Well...” uttered the demon a little guiltily “They don’t sound really bad to me.”  
“Don’t be silly. You only defended yourself. He_ stabbed_ you on sight. It was karma, really.”

  
Aziraphale disappeared in the staircase’s direction and came back a few minutes later with a bottle of red wine.  
“How do you feel, my dear ?”  
“Way better. Didn’t start bleeding again. M’fine, really.”  
“That’s good to hear.”  
They clinked their glasses and drank without a word for a few minutes. Crowley fidgeted, a little annoyed, watching his friend start to read the minutes he brought back with a slight frown. He cleared his throat.  
“Hey, angel.”  
Aziraphale looked at him over the rim of his (useless) glasses.  
“My dear ?”  
“You’re not pudgy.”  
The angel’s eyes softened.  
“Thank you, Crowley. That is nice to hear.”  
“M’not _nice_” mumbled the demon, quite vexed. “M’honest, is all.”  
“Why, thank you all the same.”  
Aziraphale resumed his lecture. His friend noticed with relief his frown had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah, writing this did me good. Angst can take a break from time to time.  
The next chapter will be a fun one !


	9. Shackled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley are suddenly faced with a familiar figure...  
Some misunderstanding issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had that precise situation in mind this morning while thinking about today's prompt and it was too much fun not to write it.

“Here ! I see him !”  
“Crowley, wait for me, you imbecile !”  
“Not really angelic of you !”

  
Two human shaped creatures stopped in front of a building. They raised their eyes.  
“You’ve got to be KIDDING ME !” Yelled the taller one.  
“Why is he climbing ? He’s got wings.”  
“He’s a fucking show off, cut them after the Fall just to look like the cool guys.”  
“Did it work ?”  
“Well, he’s a Duke of Hell. I’m a lesser demon.”  
“Point taken. Well, we can’t just follow him… I’ll ruin my jacket ! Maybe if we try entering the building we… Crowley ! He entered a window !”  
“Yeah, saw that.”  
“Come on, we have to climb that metallic stair thing !”  
“Why ? He just ran away. Means he’s not here for me. I’m cool with that, let’s go back.”  
“There might be HUMANS in this room !”  
“Well, if the window’s open I expect there is… come ON, Aziraphale ! What are you doing ?”  
But the angel was already clumsily ascending the fire escape.  
“I won’t follow you, angel ! Come back here ! You can’t just go after him head first all by yourself ! Angel ? You listening to me ?”

  
Aziraphale didn’t look back, concentrating on NOT falling. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when the fire escape started shaking under the weight of a second climber.  
“Manchester, you’re annoying. I swear next time I’ll leave you alone and go straight home !” Mumbled Crowley while rapidly catching up. He was just at his friend’s heels when Aziraphale reached the opened window, got in and GASPED.  
“Zira ! What’s happening ? You hurt ?” Crowley all but jumped inside, first looking at his friend, then at what got his attention.  
“Oh. Flames.” A slow grin spread on his face.

  
A man was sprawled on the bed, hands tied at the head of the bed by two pink-furred shackles. He was wearing absolutely nothing.  
“’Scuse me sir, did you by some chance appear to have seen a man entering here ?” Asked the demon in a honeyed voice.  
The man looked at them with a dignified air Crowley had to respect.  
“Actually, I have. He exited by the door.”  
“Thank you. Have a nice day.” The demon walked towards the door. Aziraphale gasped.  
“CROWLEY ! We can’t leave that poor man here ! He’s been CHAINED !”  
“Shackled, angel. He’s fine.”  
“He is certainly _not_. Somebody restrained him ! We have to help him and call the police.”  
“Oh, I beg you not to trouble yourself” intervened the man with a slightly anxious air.  
“He’s fine, angel. Leave him be.”  
A sound came from an adjacent room.  
“His kidnapper is still here !”  
“I’m quite sure of that, but maybe we could just go, hmm ? T’s not very polite to interrupt...”  
“You _beast_ ! I will certainly interrupt _that_ !”  
With a virtuous air, Aziraphale approached the door to what was apparently the bathroom, ready to smite.  
“Angel ?”  
“What ?”  
“T’s not what you think it is.”  
“Whatever do you _mean_ ?”

  
With a long suffering air, Crowley approached his friend and whispered in his ear. Aziraphale stood very still while a rosy blush spread over his face.  
“I… I really don’t… are you quite _sure_ ?”  
“Positive.”  
The man tried to wave at them.  
“Gentlemen, if it’s not too much to ask, would you be so kind as to get out before my wife comes back ? I don’t want her to fret, and she’s very particular about keeping shoes indoors...”  
“Oh” stammered the angel. “Oh, of course. I’m ever so sorry. Our apologise for the trouble.”  
“No problem.”

  
They exited the bedroom as silently as possible, Aziraphale working a quick miracle to clean the floor.  
Once they crossed a neat sitting room and got into the corridor, it was obvious Hastur had long gone away.  
“Well… Might as well eat out. The Indian restaurant you’re so fond of is just next door.”  
The angel’s face brightened.  
“Oh, that’s a splendid idea !”

  
They walked to the elevator, Crowley making sure to press all the buttons once they were down in case someone at the upper floors needed it.  
“My dear, did that man reminded you of something ?”  
“Hmm ? No, why ?”  
“I don’t know. I have the feeling I’ve seen him before.”  
“Doesn’t ring any bell.”  
They started walking down the street.  
"Crowley ?"  
"Yep ?"  
"Don't you call me 'Zira' ever again."  
The demon grinned.  
"Say you won't."  
"..."  
"Crowley. Say you won't !"  
"Oh, look ! The restaurant !"  
"CROWLEY !"

On the fifth floor, the cuffed man watched with interest the bathroom door opening.  
“Leslie ? Is there anyone with you ? I think I heard voices...”  
“No one here, Maud. You can come out.”  
“So… what do you think, Tiger ?”  
“… come here and I’ll show you, Love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Leslie and Maud. They look so in love and cute, I want to write about them some more in other stories.


	10. Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale cares for his demon.
> 
> Takes place just after chapter 3 "delirium", when Crowley is under the effects of sage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is for LugiaDepression and PlayingOnInsane who were ready to sell their souls for it.  
Just... don't, please.
> 
> Here it is !

After the nightclub debacle, Aziraphale made quick work of going back to the bookshop. Crowley was still sleeping heavily, and hadn’t moved an inch.

The angel worriedly felt his friend’s forehead, made a face, and started rummaging through a certain section of the shop.

“I’m sure it was there… near the book of the living… Ah !” He straightened with a triumphant expression, an old book in his hands.

“Summoning and exorcism of Demonic entities. I knew I had it there !”

He got to his desk and started flipping the pages rapidly, not even stopping to put his gloves on.

“Here ! Sage…” He scanned the page with a quick look. “I don’t CARE about fumes effects, I KNOW them ! Give me something useful, you blasted thing ! Oh, really ? Sage and salt are powerful in purifying demonic influence when burned together ? Do I look like a preschooler ? EVERYBODY knows that !”

He flipped some more pages, then turned back again a few.

“Ingestion… Oh. Oh… right. That’s just PERFECT” he snarled, snapping the book close with a disgusted air.

“Can human sometimes _not_ think about torture ? This is revolting !”

Crowley mumbled in his sleep, and his friend got to him immediately.

“I am here, my dear boy. Sage extract mingled with salt was supposed to have you speak only the truth before becoming mad, but I assume the alcohol got you directly onto the later. I guess we will just have to wait until the effects subside...”

He touched Crowley’s temple and closed his eyes. The fear didn’t seem to be coming back. He had been thorough in erasing it. So much for the “madness” part. But the demon’s skin was awfully hot.

“You’re almost burning. This can’t be right... »

Something was wrong. He almost ran to his desk, opening the book again. What did he miss ? 

When the sun rose up Aziraphale was still reading, sitting on the edge of the couch, regularly touching Crowley whose state was getting worse by the hour. Books were piled up near him, and as soon as he finished one he put it down on the coffee table and picked the next on the pile. Every time he checked on the demon’s spirit it seemed to have slipped further away. Despair was slowly building in the angel’s mind.

It was on the third day that he found his answer.

“Salt is binding the sage’s effects and clears out of the devil’s body rapidly. Force it regularly on the foul creature to keep interrogating him, or the sage will kill him too quick...”

He raised his head.

“Salt ? Is that all ? I have salt !”

Three weeks later, Crowley stirred slightly. Aziraphale immediately vanished away his “Little Women” first edition and focussed on the demon’s face, reaching for his hand.

“Crowley ? Do you hear me, dear ?”

He got a squeeze in answer, and he felt something unclench in his chest.

“Thank God.” 

His hand received a week slap. “Oh, right, sorry dear boy. Can you… can you open your eyes ?”

Yellow eyes blinked sleepily.

“I… I am quite relieved, I have to say. I was getting a little worried. Do you need anything ? A blanket ? A drink ?”

Crowley made a face.

“Right. No drink. Do you want me to help you sit ?” 

“M’fine, ‘gel. St’p fussssing.”

“Yes, right. Sorry. I’ll stop. I’m stopping.”

The angel’s hands were hovering over his friend on their own volition and he forced himself to step back, trying to look elsewhere for something to do.

“Mail ! I will check the mail !”

Crowley looked at his retreating back and yawned. He was feeling… strange. What HAD happened exactly ?

The bell informed him of Aziraphale’s return.

“Oi, angel ?”

His friend appeared so quickly he wondered if a miracle had been used.

“Crowley ?”

“What happened ? What am I doing here ? I don’t remember coming...”

“I brought you here. You were… unwell. Do you remember calling me ?”

Crowley frowned, squinted his eyes tightly. “Mmmm… vaguely. Asked you to… come ?”

Aziraphale was so relieved he lightened up like a little star.

“Yes ! You did ! You asked me to bring you home !”

“Oh... Sorry ‘bout that. Hope it didn’t bother you too much.”

“Crowley, dear, It is always a pleasure to pick you up.”

Crowley _ grinned _.

“Oh, yeah ? Do you pick up a lot of demons at night ?”

Aziraphale was all innocence.

“Of course not. You’re the only demon I know.”

Crowley bit back the answer that immediately came to his mind. He sometimes wondered if the angel was doing it on purpose. Nobody could be _that_ clueless. But Aziraphale looked so _tired_ he felt bad for thinking it.

“What happened to me ? Was I… attacked or something ?”

“Oh, dear. No, you drank an alcoholic beverage containing _ sage _, Crowley.”

Crowley’s eyes widened like saucers.

“Sage ! I drank SAGE ?”

“You did. Honestly, it was reckless of you to drink something without even knowing the ingredients.”

The demon wanted to throw up. Of all the things he could have fed his corporation with, this was the only susceptible to destroy him. With, of course, holy water. Middle age was awful for that, putting sage in every single dish. Good thing he didn’t care for food.

He realised Aziraphale was rambling next to him.

“I tried to take care of your plants, of course, but I didn’t dare use too much water… didn’t want to drown them… and I did my best to intimidate them but I’m afraid I failed horribly. The peace Lily made fun of me behind my back, I _ know _she did.” 

“Wha… wait.” Crowley raised a trembling hand, beginning to understand _why_ exactly he was feeling so feeble.

“How long was I out, exactly ?”

“twenty-three days.” Answered the angel almost apologetically.

Crowley blinked. Then blinked again.

“Whot ?”

“Twenty-three days” repeated Aziraphale, guilt written all over his face this time, and he added in a hurry “It took me so much time to understand what the problem was, and when I did, you were in a dreadful state. Had I found salt was the answer sooner, you would have been up and about _weeks_ ago. I have no excuse. I am ever so sorry it took that long.”

The demon looked at the defeated looking angel sitting next to him, his head hanging, both hands on his knees, and he felt something that couldn’t be named, washed all over him and destroy all of his defences. He bit his lip until he tasted metal.

He had no idea what his friend was talking about, but that could wait.

“Aziraphale.”

The angel’s head sunk a few more inches in answer.

Crowley extended a hand tentatively towards his friend’s shoulder.

“Hey. I’m fine. You did it.”

“I _failed_ you,” snapped the angel angrily, staring at the floor. “I didn’t understand fast enough. I am _clever_ ! Erudition is my _thing_ ! And I didn’t even use it fully when needed ! I know you don’t blame me, Crowley. I know. But I do. You could have _died_!”

Crowley slowly took his hand back. The angel’s mind was on a loop. He knew touching right now will only appease himself. He closed his eyes, thinking of all the answers available, and trying to find the best one to make his friend feel better.

“I don’t understand what happened, angel. It’s kind of scary”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and brusquely found his. _Of course_ he would fall for that.

“I don’t give a shit about what you _ think _you could have done better, Aziraphale. You came.”

There was an exasperated huff.

“_Of course_ I came ! That’s not a feat !”

Crowley smiled fondly.

“It is. It was your choice. I don’t think I could have helped you at all had I been in your place. But I’d came. That’s the important thing, eh ?”

For a few seconds, there was a battle taking place on the angel’s face, one the demon knew the outcome before it even took place. Either the angel could still consider himself a good friend or they were both awful ones, because there was a strong chance Crowley wouldn’t have found the right book on time. He’d try, of course, but he didn’t know the bookshop’s organisation (nobody except Aziraphale could make sense of it, to be honest).

Aziraphale sighed loudly. Crowley grinned. He’d won.

“I feel fine, but actually… can you, you know...bring me a cushion or two… and a plaid ? Don’t want to bother you… just… a glass of water, maybe ? And… a book ? I really feel like reading right now…

Crowley watched his friend fuss other him for the next ten minutes, careful to ask for a cup of tea and scones to keep him occupied long enough to get rid of most of his distress.

Then he would ask for the full story.

In the meantime, he concentrated on imagining the best way to execute his peace lily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst again, what a surprise ^^  
What is WRONG with me ?


	11. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is not a good tempered patient.  
This is an understatement.  
Really. It is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write that. This is one of the funiest writing sessions I have ever had.
> 
> Thanks to megzseattle for her support and beta reading. You're adorable !

“Why did you have to open your _wings_ ?”

“There were humans ! What would you have me do ?”

“Not open your bloody wings, that’s what !”

“No need to swear ! I _had_ to ! I had a _plan_, anyway !”

“Oh, and it worked out, ssssooo well, right ?”

“That was a good plan.”

“Shut up and walk, angel.”

Crowley was _ not _ freaking out. He was too cool for that. No, he was… concerned. Yes, concerned, that was it. Walking on the pavement almost dragging a man-shaped being that was dripping _ golden _ blood was bound to gather attention (even in Soho) and he worked a quick demonic miracle to surround them with the equivalent of a “DO NOT NOTICE” sign.

The only reassuring thing was Aziraphale’s incessant bitching. It was also extremely irritating, if he was totally honest.

“Shut up ? _Shut up_ ? I’m wounded, Crowley, could you at least show a little compassion ?”

“Who d’you think I am ? The bloody Dalaï Lama ?”

“_ Crowley _!” Aziraphale snapped.

“I’ll be compassionate when you’ll stop acting ssstupid ! You don’t materialise your _ bloody _ wings in front of a _ bloody _ Duke of Hell !”

“I’m not afraid of _Hastur_”

“Well, I am, and I’m not bleeding on the street.”

Thank G… Sa… thank Nobody, they were there. The bookshop’s door opened as Crowley approached. He nodded at it as he rushed inside. If only his plants were that considerate !

The demon sighed in relief as they finally reached the back room, and helped a white-faced, tight-lipped angel sat on the couch.

“Unfold them.”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Oh, so what ? You gonna wait ‘till it miracles back good as new ? Cause that’s _not_ gonna happen !”

Aziraphale’s face seemed like granite. Colour included. That angel was a stubborn pain in the ass.

“Do it ! Or I swear I’ll...”

...well, _ ‘I’ll never talk to you again’ _ wouldn’t work. That was a one time only joker and the angel had already used it… “I won’t tell you where to find a certain crate of parchments.”

Aziraphale sprang on his feet. “YOU DIDN’T !”

“I did ! Couldn’t leave it there, could I ? There were people, babbling about “the greatest discovery of all time. Did you really want your favourite poetess’s work to end as one of the dead sea scrolls ?”

“I knew you were the one who took it ! You said you didn’t !”

“Demons lie. Unfold your wings.”

The angel sat back heavily, his brief outburst having drained the last of his energy. His wings unfurled and he bit back a cry.

“Shit. Got you well, the bastard” growled Crowley at the sight.

“No as well as… you got him...” mumbled his friend feebly.

“Hey, don’t pass out !”

“Oh, _ thank you _ , Crowley, I forgot I could _ decide _ not to loose consciousness.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you at all, Aziraphale.”

“Well stupidity doesn’t suit you either, and you’re still wearing it !”

Crowley took a deep breath. When hurt, Aziraphale was a little too much of a bastard, even to the demon’s taste.

The right wing was in an awful state. But to his immense relief, Crowley couldn’t see any broken bone.

“Ripped your flesh good. You’re lucky his claws are not poisonous.”

“Have you seen them ? They were so filthy I will need a tetanus booster.”

Crowley didn’t smile.

“You need stitches, angel. You know we can’t miraculously heal wings.”

As predicted, this affirmation was NOT received graciously. Five minutes later, Crowley was almost _ praying _ for the angel to faint.

“You will not DARN me like an old rag !”

“You’re bleeding everywhere ! You want these parchments or not ?”

“Don’t you dare use Sappho to butcher me ! You’re probably lying again anyway ! Can you even show them to me ?”

“I don’t have them here ! D’you think I’m hiding them in my pants or something ?”

“Well that would be wise, this is the last place on earth _anyone_ would want to explore !”

“GOD, you’re so...” Crowley stopped mid-sentence, his face twisted. Third commandment was _not_ good on demons “Shit, that hurts.”

Aziraphale looked slightly guilty. Better take advantage of that weakness.

“I won’t _butcher_ you, I know how to stitch a wound. Done it, loads of times.” Well, once, six hundred years ago. No need to say _that_. His tone became cajoling “Come on, angel. M’worried about you, let me help. Please ? M’ready to beg, here, you know how I feel about begging.”

“All right, all right, no need to be_ dramatic_.”

Crowley had a lot to say about _That _sentence but kept it tightly under control with all it’s brothers and sisters born in the last half hour.

The following hours were an ordeal for both of them. Aziraphale suffered a lot, which was not a happy sight, and he was so abrasive his sole presence would have cleaned Hell in its entirety in less than an hour.

Finally, a tired and grumpy angel was resting in bed, while an exhausted demon tried to brew some coffee and prepare a tea. He was feeling sick. Repeatedly sticking a needle in his best friend’s flesh was _not_ his idea of a good time.

He braced himself before stepping back in the lion’s den.

“Your tea, angel.”

Aziraphale looked at his mug, took a sip, huffed a disappointed sigh and put it away with the air of someone too polite to_ say _anything. Crowley just wanted to strangle him.

“Not to your taste ? I can make another cup if you want” He managed to utter through gritted teeth.

“No, no, it’s very good. I’ll finish it later.” Answered a patronising angel.

Crowley let it go. He was currently trying his hardest to remember any kind thing Aziraphale had ever done for him without any prompting. It was a last resort method, but it always worked. He started from the more recent ones.

_ 1 : Tried to scare my plants for me. _

_ 2 : Came to help me without asking one single question when I called him high on sage. _

_ 3 : Offered me a silk scarf when we gave the kitten away, because he knew I was sad. It was red and not even tartan. _

“Oh. You’re drinking _COFFEE_. How nice. Well, I don’t mind the smell. I will certainly not try to deprive you of that awful beverage just for my own comfort.”

Crowley offered a tight smile and miracled his coffee away.

_ 4 : Yelled at an old man who called me a “hooligan” because I had my glasses on at the Ritz. Did a whole speech that had a waitress cry. Got the old geeser banned for life. _

_ 5 : Always stroke the Bentley’s hood when we arrive somewhere and he thinks I can’t see him. _

A sudden silence brought him back. Aziraphale looked at him expectantly.

“Ah… what ?”

“I asked : do you know why Hastur was there, and why did he have all those buckets again ?”

He stomped his foot frustratingly.

“Not a bloody clue ! I don’t know ! Why ? Why these freakin’ buckets ? What does he even want to do with ‘em ?”

He turned brusquely to face his friend.

“And you !” He accused.

The angel recoiled in indignation.

“Me ? What have I done ?”

“Nothing, that’s what ! You just stretched your fucking wings and let him attack you ! He could have killed you ! I don’t even know why he stopped all of a sudden, couldn’t have beheaded him otherwise.”

The angel pouted. With way too much pride.

“Wait. Wait... Angel ? What have you done ?”

“Well… if you want to know, I stabbed him.”

“You… what ? With what ? You weren’t armed !”

“With a chopstick. I do not like metallic chopsticks, but they can come in handy. You couldn’t see it from your position.”

Crowley was staring at his angel with an open mouth.

“Oh, dear. You have never looked more ridiculous, Crowley.”

_ 1 : Stabbed a duke of Hell with a chopstick. _

* * *

A loud yell erupted in the deepest bit of Hell, and a very confused and angry Duke reaparated.

The young demon in charge of Entries gaped.

“Duke Hastur ! Again ?”

Fortunately, Hastur was too angry to listen to him and didn’t kill him on the spot.

"Crawly ! It was him, I know it ! He discorporated me !

He looked at his hand, covered in golden blood.

“That… that angel. He attacked me ! He stared at me, he stabbed me in the _gut_ !

He looked at his hand again. The angel had stared at him right in the eyes and extended his wings. That was practically begging for death ! And for what ? A handful of ridiculous humans ?

He smelled his hand. Blinked. Smelled it again. Paper. Cinnamon. Rain. Smoke.

He _knew_ this smell.

“It’s the bastard that discorporated me the other time !” He yelled.

“Who, Sir ? The demon Crawly ?” Asked the younger demon cautiously.

“No ! The ANGEL !”

“But… angel always attack front on.”

“Yeah they do, the stupid pricks. But HE attacked me from behind, and he got me at first attempt ! Know what that means ? He aims to _kill_!”

“Well… that seems… strange. For an angel, of course.”

“It’s not strange, it’s brilliant. This angel is a bastard. He wasn’t even afraid of me, and he took the first thing that came into his hand and _ stabbed _ me with it while I was ripping his _ wing _ !” Hastur's tone was laced with awe.

The lesser demon gaped.

“Are you sure it was an angel, Sir ?”

He didn’t answer. There had been no _fear_ in his eyes. He was a Duke of Hell. So much powerfull. And this angel wasn't afraid at all. And that was… interesting. This angel was scary. He felt a shiver of pleasure running along his spine.

“Sir ?”

“Give me another corporation !”

“Sir, you have to fill the form...”

With a cry, the young demon dissolved in flames.

“I want a corporation _NOW_” Yelled Hastur.

He needed to see his angel again.

* * *

The bookshop was very calm that day. Even more than the other days, that is. Aziraphale slowly walked to the door and opened it. Nobody was there. He was sure he had heard someone knock… then his eyes fell.

“Oh ! Well… that’s...”

A yawning demon slithered his way from the back room.

“What are you doing here, angel ? You’re supposed to rest. What’s that ?”

“Why, what a thoughtful gesture. Look, Crowley ! Someone brought me flowers !”

“T’s not. T’s weeds, angel. These ones are nettles !”

“This is so kind.”

“T’s not KIND ! I’m pretty sure some freaky human is trying to cast a spell on you. These ones here are _brambles _!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. I can feel _love_ all over them. Oh, I have to put them on water. Do I even have a vase ? I need to buy a vase !”

Crowley watched his friend walk to the stairs, happily humming, his lame bouquet in hand.

“OI, ANGEL ! What do you mean_, love_ ?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale had a stash of writings BEFORE the bookshop. But it was found out by the humans.  
Crowley gathered the angel's favorite manuscripts and just let every religious-related scrolls (because... well... it burned.)
> 
> We will see Hastur again.


	12. "Don't Move"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale feels slightly guilty and tries to make up.  
Crowley tries to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly (all right, entirely) fluff and... well, no, just fluff actually ^^

Having Aziraphale as best friend had a lot of advantages. When Crowley fell asleep on the bookshop’s couch after a long session of talking, drinking, or generally criticising their former co-workers (an occurrence which, to be honest, happened at least four times a week) he knew what would happen upon waking up.

-A cappuccino will be handed to him most of the year, but in the coldest days of winter, it would be a coffee as black as a moonless night, for the cold blooded demon had even more trouble clearing his mind of sleep on these days.

-His glasses would be handed to him if he didn’t remember where he’d put them before passing out.

-Aziraphale would stay in the same room in silence, usually reading, while Crowley would slowly come back to the living world.

That was how most mornings occurred in the back room of the bookshop.

But normal, caring Aziraphale was no match to convalescent Aziraphale. Three days after Hastur’s latest discorporation and the injury to the angel’s wing, the first thing Crowley felt upon waking up was the quilt. So warm it was a sin, so soft and fluffy it felt like a cloud.

Oh. There were _there_ already.

He buried himself in the exquisite softness with a loud sigh.

“Hello, my dear. Do you want a cinnamon stick in you cappuccino today ?” Asked Aziraphale softly.

“Hmmmyeah.”

His beverage was almost instantly pressed against his fingers. It was just the right temperature, and the demon knew it hadn’t been miracled. He stretched his free arm, took a sip (perfect), and put the mug on the coffee table before sliding to the rug. Strangely, leaving the cocoon of the quilt was not as heartbreaking as planned. The fire was blazing, heating up the room way too much to the angel’s taste. To a cold blooded entity, it was delightfull.

“Are you quite all right, Crowley ? Do you need anything ?”

Awfully mortified Aziraphale was a rare treat, and when he entered that phase his niceness reached unsuspected heights.

Crowley wouldn’t miss it for the wide world (and he loved the wide world).

He hesitated an instant. But Aziraphale had asked, after all. And he had been a royal pain these past three days, so Crowley deserved a little treat, didn’t he ?

“Well...” he said, sitting up hesitantly.

The angel tipped his head in expectation.

“Well...” repeated the demon. “Maybe. You know. It’s cold...”

“Oh ! I'm so sorry ! Do you want another blanket ? I can put more logs on the fire !”

Aziraphale jumped to his feet and almost ran to the fireplace. Crowley’s resolve crumpled. He really was a bastard, asking something like that, and he felt more relieved than disapointed that his friend hadn't understood his meaning.

“No, no, t’s okay, angel. T’s perfectly warm. Don’t worry. I’ll just sleep a little more.”

“Oh. All right.”

Aziraphale stood looking at his friend lying back down on the rug, then at the fire with wonder, eyebrows frowning slowly. His face suddenly brightened and he claped his hands, making the demon startle.

“Crowley ! Why didn’t you say it ? Do not be silly and come here.”

His friend stared at him half sheepish, half hopeful.

“You sure ?”

“_Of course_ I am. By any means, be my guest.”

“Already am” joked the demon tentatively before changing in a black and red snake and slithering right into Aziraphale’s outstretched hands.

“Now, do settle in as you wish.”

Crowley slowly circled his friend’s neck and shoulders as many times as possible, like a sleepy dog settling on his basket. The angel had miracled his bow-tie away for him to be more comfortable, and the warmth of his Grace combined to the natural heat of his corporation was almost too much to bear. Nothing could compare to that. Crowley’s body and soul were _warm_ and _safe_ and had he not felt slightly ashamed it would have been Heav... Hel... it would habe been _Perfection_.

“Thanksss, angel” he purred lazily.

“Any time, dear” answered Aziraphale, brushing the serpent’s skin in a feathery stroke before settling carefully back in his armchair and picking up his book.

A page was turned. Then the angel raised his head slightly.

“I mean it, you know ?”

“Mmm… whot ?”

“You can ask whenever you want. If it helps you keep heated.”

“Oh. Oh, really ? Don’t want to… you know… bother you. You’re not cuddly. I know you don’t like touch.”

Aziraphale made a face. It was true. Always had been.

“You’re right. But it does not bother me when it’s _you_.”

Good thing serpents couldn’t blush, thought Crowley. He stayed silent for a minute or two. Well he knew_ that_ already, but he'd assumed his serpent form was different. He was quite self conscious about it, and had tried every possible miracle to get rid of his snaky eyes when he took a human apparence. It was very strange to understand (after 6000 years of knowing one another) that it made absolutely no difference for the angel. He searched for a smart answer.

“’Kay... I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do” answered the angel absent-mindedly before flipping another page.

It was _Perfection_. Crowley buried his nose in the angel’s collar and closed his eyes.

Someone tried to open the door to the bookshop. Knocked.

“Don’t move” begged the sleepy serpent.

Aziraphale smiled. And turned a page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intended to make a whole chapter about that. But it kind of escaped my control.  
And well... I can't say no to some nice fluff.  
Hastur was supposed to come back. Don't worry, he will. Next chapter coming in a few hours (I have to make up for yesterday. I almost fell asleep on my keyboard and took a night off :D ).


	13. Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something evil in the bookshop. It is not Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but I can't be disgusted by Hastur. He transforms in tons of MAGGOTS to eat people alive and still, every time I see him on screen I just want to say "Awww".  
He is... cute. In a weird way.  
I am strange.

Aziraphale’s wing was feeling way better, but it would take at least a month until it was completely healed, and he knew perfectly well his friend will not put a foot out of the bookshop before that. That was just one of these things between them. None of them will leave the other alone in these conditions.

So the angel didn’t ask Crowley if he intended to go back to his apartment to water his plants. He _organised_ it.

“Crowley, dear ?”

The demon looked at him, stopping momentarily whatever game he was playing on his phone.

“Hmm ?”

“I have a craving for ice cream. Does this little shop near your flat still make blueberry yoghurt flavour ?”

It did. He had checked.

“Dunno. Wait a minute.” Crowley typed on his phone. “Yup. They do. Wanna go ?”

“Well… yes. If that is not an imposition, of course. I can take a taxi.”

Crowley jumped on his feet, incensed.

“You will NOT ! T’will break the Bentley’s heart, angel !”

Aziraphale put a guilty expression on his face without much effort.

“Well, I will never want _that_. Let us go, then.”

One hour, three ice creams and a stop at Mayfair later (“ How do you feel, angel ? Are you tired ? No ? Sure ? Then maybe… we could, you know… stop at my place… the plants could use a little yelling at, I think. Oh, really ? You sure ? Not at all ? Okay, let’s go, then. Won’t take a minute, really.”) they were back at Aziraphale’s.

The angel stepped out of the car, climbed the stairs to the entry of his shop, and froze, his hand mere inches from the handle.

“Someone got into my _shop_ !”

Crowley grew fangs without even thinking about it, adrenalin brutally rushing through his bloodstream.

“Stay here, angel.”

He reached for the door, but Aziraphale gripped his arm hard enough to hurt.

“What do you think you’re _doing_ ?”

“I’ll get in. See who it is. You wait here.”

“Certainly not ! This is _my bookshop_ !”

“They’re powerful enough to break your ward, angel ! And you’re hurt !”

“I don’t _care _if I’m hurt. It’s _mine _! I’ll go, feel free to join me” snapped Aziraphale with such an angry face his friend had no choice but to yield.

No one seemed to be on the ground floor, but Aziraphale let out a broken cry at the vision of some books that seemed to have been knocked to the floor.

Crowley silently slid behind the angel and headed directly to the stairs, climbing them in a blurry red haze. He sensed something _demonic_. And no fucking demon was supposed to enter _HERE_. By the time he reached the first floor, he wasn’t even aware of his surroundings, all his senses focused on the smell, and the will to _destroy_.

He rushed to the kitchen, kicked the door open, and…

There was one second of perfect stillness, while Crowley tried to understand why on earth would Hastur put a vase full of _weeds_ on Aziraphale’s kitchen counter.

Then everything motioned again at high speed.

Crowley reached with a ferocious yell, Hastur pulled a freakishly long knife out of his mackintosh, and jumped with a grin…

And Aziraphale appeared brusquely right between them, wings spread…

Crowley stopped short before colliding with him.

_ Fucking Satan, you’ve got to be kidding me ! _

A light so bright Crowley could see it through his tightly closed eyes _and_ the angel’s protective wings illuminated the whole room. There was a_ WHUMP.  
_

Then hands were on him, and he started before realising they were his angel's.

“Crowley ! Are you alright ? Open your eyes !”

His vision was blurry, but he felt the angel work a miracle and everything became clear.

“What have you done ? You’re crazy, angel ? You did it AGAIN ! He got you just a week ago and you’re showing him your fucking WINGS again ?”

“Me ? You were the one to come up here alone ! He was about to discorporate you !”

“I would have been the one discorporating the other ! I know what I’m doing ! And what about your little light show ? You’ve burned your freakin’ _G__race_ !”

“Well… it worked, didn’t it ? He’s gone. And my Grace will come back eventually. I’ll just have to wait. Oh. Oh… no. NO !”

Crowley jumped on his feet, frantically looking behind him, expecting… nothing. There was nothing else than the kitchen counter and the bloody bouquet.

“What ? What ?”

“He TOOK it ! He took it with him down there !” The angel was devastated.

“What the He… What are you talking about, Aziraphale ?”

“My knife !” whined the angel. “He took it !”

“What knife ?”

“It was my musamune… I loved that knife so much. I had it for _centuries_.”

“You had one of these ? Jeez angel, why didn’t you tell me ? And what was it doing in your kitchen ? Should have been in a safe !”

“But it was perfect for sushi !”

“Well done, it’s now in the hand of a Duke of Hell. I doubt he will use it for bloody sushi, mind you.”

Aziraphale was frowning.

“What is that ?” He asked, looking at the vase.

“Dunno. A threat ?”

“These are… flowers. Like the last ones.”

“T’s not flowers, and it wasn’t the last time either. It’s creepy, let’s burn them. Outside.”

But the angel was considering the bouquet with intense concentration.

“This… has been done with love, Crowley. I think… I…”

The angel’s face suddenly did a funny thing, and it quickly jumped from righteous anger to something that resembled way too much tenderness.

“I think it is a peace offering of kind ! Maybe… maybe Hastur wants us to know he is not here on earth to destroy you ! Maybe he just wants to be left alone to do whatever he is doing with those buckets ! Oh, poor boy, I just discorporated him again, and obtaining a new body is _so _dreadful...”

Crowley stared at the bouquet, then at his angel. Opened his mouth. Closed it again.

This was _so not_ a peace offering. Aziraphale could feel love... a horrible thought was building on the demon's mind.

“Come on, angel. You… you know what it is, right ? Just… look at it !”

Aziraphale looked.

“Flowers ?”

“Angel, it’s a bloody _bouquet_ ! You don’t bring a bouquet as _peace offering_ ! It’s a _declaration_, that’s what it is !”

The angel frowned.

“But… but he attacked you.”

“Wha… Not ME ! _You_, angel ! I think Hastur is trying to… _woo_ you or something !”

His friend laughed. Really laughed. Out loud.

“This is ridiculous, Crowley ! Of course not !”

“Nobody offers a bouquet of flowers without… a goal, angel !”

“You offered me flowers.”

The demon spluttered. Then straightened, pushing his glasses firmly in place. “T’was for the opening of the bookshop”

“_AND_ chocolates. Chocolates are a very meaningful thing in love language, if I am correct.”

“Now, angel… don’t… it’s just not what… you like chocolates. And flowers… wanted to be… you know...“

Aziraphale enjoyed his demon’s struggle a few more seconds before putting an end to his misery and patting his shoulder.

“I _know_, Crowley, stop panicking. But I really think you’re reading too much into all this.” He added, waving at the pitiful bouquet.

“M’not. I am not AT ALL, angel. Trust me on that. He… he just marked you.”

“What in Heaven do you mean, _mark_ me?”

“You know...” the demon gestured apologetically. “Marked you. Like… to warn every other demon that you’re _his_. Which you’re not ! You’re not, of course !” he added precipitately at the face Aziraphale was making. “Just… demons… they’re like that. They want to _own_.”

“Good… Lord...Are you saying Hastur… has a _crush_ on me, like the humans put it ?”

“Weeeeeell...”

“But... stealing my favourite knife wasn’t a very good way to earn my goodwill.”

“Weeell...” repeated the demon feebly.

Aziraphale stared at him.

“What ? Why are you making this face ? I know this face, tell me what is happening _right now _!”

“You… you know, when some creepy humans start to stalk someone and end up searching their trash and breaking in to steal underwear ?”

“Oh. _These_ persons. Yes, well ?”

Crowley folded his arms and looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. He would get there eventually.

* * *

He’d done it ! He was back to Hell again, and had lost another corporation, but he’d done it ! He had the perfect trophy, a knife so beautiful and sharp, just like his angel. It felt so dangerous, so deadly… it was the best of reminders. He would carry it with him forever.

But he needed another corporation now. He was way behind schedule about the buckets… and with luck, he would catch a glimpse of his dreadful angel. Maybe even fight him again...

His eyes were still burning.

He hoped the pain would last forever.


	14. Tear Stained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam is visiting his "Godfathers". He learns something about each of them they'd rather keep secret.
> 
> Or : Aziraphale has a secret hobby and sad books makes Crowley feel very emotive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, I said a chapter a day and I am late !! I've been a little sick and decided to sleep it of (didn't work, that bloody headache is back). To make amends, I'll post Three stories today ! I have the main ideas for each already, and I can't wait to write them !

“Why ? Why did he have to take the bloody _train_ ?”

“Oh, dear, not that conversation again” mumbled Aziraphale, speeding up towards the station platform number seven. He could not bear listening to_that_ complaint one more time.

“Hey ! What did you say ? I know you said something !”

“I did. You’re being annoying, Crowley.”

The demon pouted, shoulders slouched, tip of his fingers in his pockets.

“Well, yeah. Comes with the job. Annoying is demonic.”

“No, it’s just irritating. Stop it.”

“I don’t want to ! He didn’t want to ride in my car !” whined Crowley.

“My dear, you are driving it like a mad man. besides, Adam never took the train before. It has its appeal. Remember our trip on the transiberian ?” Aziraphale was trying to understand the station’s plan. He nodded firmly and started walking again decidedly.

“Well, it was kinda fun, I ‘spose” conceded Crowley, still sulking a little. He sighed and tugged at the angel’s sleeve to direct him in the good direction.

“Ah ! Here it is ! platform seven ! Hurry up, Crowley, we will be late !”

“Train won’t dare being here before us, angel.”

“You mean, even with an eager Antichrist aboard ?”

Crowley accelerated.

The train was right on time, and a very energetic boy bounced down, Dog in tow.

“Uncle Z ! Uncle Crowley !”

Aziraphale’s smile froze.

“Adam Young ! I already told you not to call me…”

It was really difficult to scold someone while hugging him, so Aziraphale settled on the hugging thing. This was not normal. Adam perfectly knew his uncle’s relation to touching, and was very cautious not to overstep. Which meant he was genuinely in need of comfort. The angel ensconced them both in warm, feable Grace, suddenly concerned. Crowley squinted his eyes.

Before any of them could ask a question, the young Antichrist stepped back and pointed a triumphant finger at Aziraphale.

“I _knew_ it ! You burned almost all of it ! That’s not very smart, uncle Z ! What happened ?”

He exchanged an elaborated hand shake with his other “uncle”. Aziraphale was pretty sure it was a gang sign. Crowley _ beamed _.

“Oh, you don’t know that story yet… Aziraphale stole from me, Adam.”

“I did _NOT_ !”

“I had a prey, I was about to destroy it, and then your moronic uncle just stole it and burn it away !”

“That’s not _nice_, uncle Z”

Aziraphale sighed. These two were heavy maintenance individually. He didn’t think he had it in him to manage both at the same time. Easier to let it go now.

“I almost ripped his angelic head off, you know. Stepping between a demon and his prey like that is suicidal, that's what it is.”

“He was about to _kill_ you, Crowley. He was armed. You were not. And he is powerful.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s just petty excuses for stealing what was mine. And I’m powerful too, I could've taken him !”

“Who was it ?” Asked Adam innocently.

“Who was what, kid ?”

“Your prey. The one uncle Aziraphale burned with his energy.”

“T’s called Grace. Angelic radiance. And it was Hastur. You don’t know him, he’s a Duke of Hell. And a moron.”

Adam wrinkled his nose.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the only angel and demon on earth ?”

“Permanently ? Yes. But they still come and go. They don’t interfere, mostly. I really don’t know what he’s doing here.”

That was a blatant lie. Crowley had at least one idea of _why_ Hastur kept coming back. He wasn’t going to share it.

“He’s not messing around with humans or something ?” Adam sounded annoyed. 

“As far as I can tell, no, dear boy" intervened Aziraphale.

“Not with humans” mumbled Crowley under his breath.

“That’s good, I s’pose” agreed Adam before starting to run to the exit.

“Come on, Dog !”

“Adam, wait for us ! You will get lost !”

Aziraphale started running after the child with a frantic expression, and Crowley chuckled before sending the luggages in the bentley's booth with a snap of his fingers.

Adam enjoyed the ride to the bookshop. Aziraphale little yelps of fear were really entertaining, and London was _big_. He liked it. Not as much as Tadfield, but it was different, and his godfathers were here.

He really liked Crowley and Aziraphale. As soon as he had looked at them the first time, he’d felt it : the joy of seeing a long lost friend again. Adam was connected to humanity in a way no human ever was. And these two had watched over humans since the beginning, caring for them, loving them. Tempting, yeah, but always giving a choice. For a fundamentally Human Antichrist, they were like family.

And they didn’t _fear_ him.

He knew lots of people feared him. Well, lots of people Down and Up there. And his friends would probably, too, if they remembered everything. They would say they didn’t, but that would be a lie, they would always think “what if he loses it again ? What will happen if he gets angry ?”

Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t care. Crowley was used to piss off any creature powerful enough to destroy him, and regularly argued with God in one sided conversations. Fearing his eleven years old adorable godson was _so not_ on his to do list.

Aziraphale just didn’t think it fair to judge someone based on what they _could_ do. Anybody could do awful things. Most of them chose _not_ to do them. He trusted Adam implicitly and had declared he thought the boy’s judgement quite excellent. That was kind of scary. Preventing Armageddon had seemed a huge responsibility at the time, but not disappointing one’s guardian angel ? Heavy duty.

He settled in the little bedroom on the first floor, smiling as he looked around. Aziraphale had decided a week-long visit deserved a real bedroom. So he took it upon himself to do some _decorating_. All the walls had been transformed into a gigantic fresque.

Well, Adam had nothing against unicorns, really, and the boat was awesome. He didn’t really understand why the knights were eating with their armours on instead of fighting. Shame, a good fight would have been _wicked_. And the part with the smaller boat full of strange animals was odd. He was pretty sure he recognised the two winged silhouettes. The white one was carrying a koala.

“What’s that, uncle Z ?”

Aziraphale huffed. That long suffering sound was usually reserved to Crowley.

“Please, stop with that awful name. What is the matter ?”

“Here, the small boat. What is it ?”

The angel smiled.

“Oh. Mm… it’s… well… it was so unfair _not_ to take the marsupials ! _She_ never said not to take them, but they said there weren’t room enough. Which was a _lie_ ! They just thought marsupial were useless. So of course we… Well… I mean I...”

“T’s OK you know. You’re not working for them any more. You can tell you saved the kangaroos with uncle Crowley. That’s dope, by the way.”

“Really ? Oh… well, I think these little creatures are quite nice to look at. Don’t pet them, though. Koalas can HURT you. And don’t talk to me about Tasmanian devils” added the angel with a reminiscent grimace.

“Where are the children ?” asked Adam innocently.

“Wh… What children ?”

“On the boat. I’m pretty sure there were children. They’re not on the painting.”

“I really don’t know what you are talking about, Adam. Saving the animals was not in opposition to the Great Plan. But _She_ wanted mankind to be erased, at least in this part of the world. Smuggling humans would have been rebellion. Are you accusing me of betrayal to God ?”

“No. Not at all, uncle Aziraphale.”

The angel relaxed. “Well. Good, then.”

“Just, you know, accusing you of miraculing a very _large_ boat for so _few_ animals, and maybe looking the other way while a demon was doing the actual smuggling...”

Aziraphale clapped his hands decidedly.

“**Cocoa** ! We should have some _nice_ cocoa, and cake ! I bought a lemon cheesecake.”

Ah, well… Adam loved cheesecake. And he had the feeling his portion was getting thinner by the minute. Better stop the teasing now.

He helped make the cocoa, and ate an awfully large part of cake (Aziraphale NEVER said no when you asked for seconds), then he settled on the carpet in front of the fire, reading a magazine with a sleepy dog curled at his side.

Crowley was still out doing _things_, enjoying an evening of wrongdoings for the first time in weeks. He still wouldn’t leave his angel’s side as long as his Grace wasn’t back, but estimated the Antichrist’s presence was protection enough.

Aziraphale was scribbling in a leather bound book. Adam closed his magazine and looked at him.

“What are you writing ?”

The angel raised his head. Then blushed.

“Me ? Oh… it is... Nothing, really. It’s silly.”

“Is it a book ? You’re a book writer ! That’s awesome !”

“I’m not ! Really, it’s very bad. I have no style whatsoever, I know it. I just… like to write. Sometimes.”

His uncle looked so embarrassed Adam felt bad for him. Aziraphale lacked confidence. He was obviously a very _good_ writer. He had books everywhere, and he’d read them all (several times, even, had told Crowley). So if he knew books so well, he had to write perfectly. That made sense.

“What is it talking about ?”

“Oh… I do not think it would be to your taste. It is a regency novel. It talks about a young lady trying to defy convention and become independent.”

“Seems like Pepper would love that. Did she do it ?”

“No. She dies.”

“Uncle Z ! You can’t kill her !”

“I lived in regency times, it’s the only logical outcome, Adam. I tried to save her, but really, history is against her. She dies of sickness in the street, abandoned by her family.”

The angel sighed in defeat. “No one would ever want to read that.”

Adam quite agreed. Until the following day.

Aziraphale was with a customer, doing his best to convince him he did not need anything, and Crowley was reading. Adam had been playing on the street with Dog for a while, and had made friends with the neighbour’s children. He waltzed in, closed the door loudly, and ran directly to the back room, followed by the customer’s angry stare and the angel’s fond smile.

Crowley was on the couch, reading. And crying. Adam gaped.

“What’s _wrong_ ?”

The book snapped close. It was a leather bound book, and Adam had an epiphany. It had to be Aziraphale's book ! (It wasn't). The angel had asked Crowley to read it ! (He would never). Certain of himself like only an eleven years old can be, he jumped to the wrong conclusion happily.

“Oh ! Is it sad ? She died, didn’t she ?”

“Wh… whot ? How'd you know ? You’ve read it ?”

“No, but I know the story. Was it awful ?”

The demon tried to wipe his tear stained face with as much swag as he could muster (not a lot).

“It’s… it’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever read, kid. Don’t read that !”

“Oh. It’s really bad, then. The writing.”

That was disappointing, thought Adam. He’d really wanted to be the godson of a genius writer.

“Oh no, the writing’s good. Too good for me. I don’t like _feelings_. There’s too many ! And she _died_ ! How ? How could you _do this _?” He was talking at the ceiling, and Adam knew it could go on for a while. He had his answer, though. The book was good. He _looked _around… and a manuscript copy of Aziraphale's book appeared on top of a very famous editor’s desk.

Aziraphale appeared on the doorway.

“What is happening here ?”

“Uncle Crowley is mad at God again.”

“Oh, Dear. Can you go to the kitchen, Adam ? I am making cocoa and I don’t want the milk to boil over. I’ll take care of him.”

“Sure.”

Had Adam heard the ensuing discussion, he may have miracled the manuscript back.

* * *

“Why did you read it ? I told you not to !”

“You were reading it when I was sick, I wanted to know the ending.”

“I didn’t know you could hear me. "Little women" is not for you, dear, I put it in the ‘no Crowley' shelves for a reason.”

“She’s dead !”

“Well… yes… it is quite sad.”

“Sad ? It’s fucking unfair ! She was the best of all ! Why did She had to do this ?”

“I really am at a loss to understand you. Are you talking about Louisa May Alcott, or God herself ?”

“They were probably both onto it. T’s bloody heaven propaganda, that’s what it is.”

“Crowley, dear, put that book down. I’ll bring you some wine.”

* * *

Adam talked to Pepper on the phone that night.

"I helped uncle Aziraphale get a new job, but I'm still worried about uncle Crowley."

"Are you sure they want to_ find_ jobs ?"

"Duh. They're grown ups. Adult hate not having a job. Remember when your mom thought she would loose_ hers_ ?"

"That was _not_ a fun week. So, what is he doing now ?"

"He's a writer. You will love it, it's really sad."

"Is there blood in it ?"

"Well, yeah, I'm sure. It's taking place in the past, and they all had swords then, so I guess they were fighting and cutting each other's arms all the time."

"Whicked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to write such a long chapter, but Adam wouldn't stop speaking.  
And well... I couldn't tell him to shut up, could I ? He's so cute !
> 
> Little women is a book that ALWAYS had me cry at the SAME pages. Tear stained pages^^.
> 
> Also, an editor is presently reading the worst regency novel of his life.


	15. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has an old scar he doesn't want anyone to see...  
Well... Particularly ONE person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I based this story on an old legend about the Devil trying to stop two saint sisters from writing a sacred book. He blew their candle and an angel came and lighted the candle back.  
It was to good a story not to use it (with minor changes).

Aziraphale was enjoying his time with his best friend and his Godson. It filled him with a contentment he had never experienced before. Watching Crowley and Adam run in the park while he was sitting on their bench had him thinking that maybe, maybe this was what _ family _ felt like.

This was dangerous territory. Enjoying good company was one thing, becoming dependent of it another entirely. Aziraphale was alone. Always had been, and the only way to put up with it without becoming insane was to accept it as a truth that would never change.

He loved Crowley’s presence an awful lot, but they never have spent this much time together before. Decades, centuries could pass without seeing each other. Centuries _ is _ a long time, even with a lot of books. Aziraphale didn’t want to settle to this pleasant routine. It would be too difficult and painful to revert to his former life.

So he sat there, miracled a book in his hands, and started reading while Crowley yelped as Adam threw a bunch of dead leaves at him. The demon was never too cool to play with kids.

Aziraphale started his reading all over again. The words just didn’t want to sink in. He knew why he wasn’t joining the play. And he knew why he felt so gloomy. End of october was _ never _ a good moment for him.

“Angel ! Sure you don’t wanna join ? I could use the help here !”

A woman passing with her dog jerked at the nickname and threw Crowley a withering glare. Aziraphale Looked at her and saw a lot of ugly things, so he raised and caught her eyes. They stared at each other for long seconds, and the woman started to cringe.

“Oi, angel, what’you doing ?” Crowley’s voice was only a whisper, but the angel startled.

“I am showing that nice human what kind of afterlife is expecting her if she does not change her ways” answered Aziraphale, not breaking eye contact. He didn’t want to let go, not before she understood. He was _ tired _ of stupidity.

“Stop that. You’re frightening her. That’s _ my _ job. And Adam’s watching.”

Aziraphale blinked. The woman ran, dog in tow. Dog chased them, barking excitedly.

“I don’t mind” said Adam, sitting on the grass. “She was not very nice to you, uncle Crowley. She thought some mean things about you. You’re not a toy.”

“A toy ? What d’you mean ?”

“She thought you were a boy’s toy.”

Crowley barked, slapping his knee.

“A boy-toy ? I’m the angel’s boy-toy ? Oh, that’s the greatest compliment I’ve had this decade !”

Aziraphale and Adam stared blankly at him.

“What’s a boy-toy ?”

“Yes, what does that mean, dear ?”

Crowley spluttered. “T’s… t’s nothing… Ah… you… you’re trying to change the subject, angel ! What’s wrong ? There’s something wrong, I know it.”

Aziraphale straightened his cuffs.

“I am sure I do not see what you mean.”

“Is it because you’re hurt, uncle Z ?”

Both immortal entities opened wide eyes looking at Adam. Then Crowley focused on his friend and started circling him like a bird of prey.

“You hurt, angel ?” he asked casually, like the answer didn’t matter that much to him.

“I am not. I’m fine !”

“Your right leg’s hurting you. Had since this morning.” Adam stretched on the lawn. Aziraphale sent him a look that promised retribution. The boy smiled serenely.

“Is it true ? What’s up with your leg ? Did something happen this morning ? Was it _Hastur_ again ?”

The circling hadn’t stopped. Crowley’s gaze was assessing his friend’s leg up and down and Aziraphale didn’t even want to imagine what a passer-by would think.

“Calm down, Crowley. It’s nothing. Just an old scar, that’s all. Always comes as a reminder this time of year.”

The demon stopped walking.

“Uh ? Didn’t know you ‘d got hurt. When was that ?”

“737, in Belgium.”

“That’s a long time ago, angel… what happened ? Why didn’t you tell me ?”

“Do we have to have that conversation here ? I’d rather have something to drink first.”

“Yeah ! Cocoa and marshmallows !”

“I am not sure you deserve it after that, Adam.” answered the angel tersely.

Adam didn’t look very concerned. The day Aziraphale would refuse food or drink to someone he loved still had to come.

They settled at a patisserie’s terrace, and Crowley siped a coffee while Aziraphale and Adam managed to eat at least one of each little cake at disposal.

“This kid’s gonna be high on sugar for weeks.”

“Let him enjoy his stay, Crowley.”

“S’gonna be sick, all I’m saying.”

“I wouldn’t let him. Of course, dear, you can have another one if you want.”

The demon waited a moment, then decided to address the subject himself.

“So ?”

Aziraphale sighed.

“I never intended to talk to you about that. It was such a long time ago. I had a divine illumination to do at an abbey. Two sisters had founded it and were considered saints Up There, so I had to… give them inspiration to write a Gospel.”

“Well… seems simple enough to me so far.”

“It was. Until Hell sent someone to thwart me.”

“_WHAT_ ? I’m the thwarter ! They should have sent _me_ !”

“I couldn’t agree more” was the angel quiet whisper. His hand stroke his right thigh slightly. Crowley squinted his eyes angrily.

“Who was it ? What did he do ?”

“It was a she, and she was… creepy. She couldn’t get to the sisters, of course, the ground was heavily consecrated, and I wouldn’t let her in. But she cut my blessing.”

“Shit. That must’ve hurt.”

“Well, it was quite a long miracle. Had been at it for days. A Gospel can not be written rapidly, even a blessed one. But I had to finish it, so I attacked her and I got hurt.”

“Still didn’t tell me her name, angel.”

“I have no idea who she was. Anyway, she… she died.”

“Discorporated ?”

“No. One of the sisters threw holy water at her. She saved me. The demon’s weapon was heavily cursed.”

“Way to go, little nun !”

“We were fighting under our true forms, but she stepped in with no fear. Relindis was one of the bravest human I have ever met.”

“So. You finished the blessing even if you were hurting like hell and needed help ?”

“Why, of course ! The book wasn’t finished !”

“Angel, what wouldn’t you do for a book ? What happened to it anyway ? Do I know it ?”

Aziraphale’s gaze slid to the right and he took a sip of his tea. Crowley chuckled.

“It’s in the bookshop, isn’t it ? You stole it !”

“I did NOT ! I had to take it one century later. There were _vikings_ everywhere, and you know what they did to books.”

“Yeah… but they’d got pretty good ale. Why didn’t you return the Gospel later ?”

“With all these awful wars I estimated it safer here. And it had been written by women. You know what people thought about clever women at the time.”

“You don’t have to make excuses to me. I like it when you steal things from humanity. That’s not very angelic.”

“Saving a sacred Gospel is always angelic.”

“Will you show it to me ?”

“Of course, if you want to see it. You will have to be gentle, though.”

“I will, I’ll put freakin’ silk gloves on.”

Aziraphale took another sip. Adam was giving Dog half a pastry, scandalising a patron. Crowley beamed at her. Then he watched his angel as he hummed happily with a faraway look, and smiled mischievously.

“Hey, angel ?”

“Hmm ?”

“When you said you’d show it to me, you were talking about your leg, right ?”

Aziraphale choked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some research, the book that was attributed to the sisters is apparently not theirs and has been writen by a man after their time. So, I changed some things, since there are writings stating they did wrote a Gospel. I just had to assumed it had been... misplaced.


	16. Pinned Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hastur is back. And he wants to prove his devotion.  
That can only go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write this one so much !

Hastur was back. It took him some time arguing with Beelzebub, but he’d finally be granted a corporation. He had to bring some buckets back first, this time. Hell was not really happy with him, and Dagon started to frown whenever she saw him.

He’d promised Beelzebub he would bring some, and even if breaking a promise was considered natural Down There, he had the feeling The Lord of the Flies would not be happy with him if he did. He didn’t want to annoy them. They could deprive him of corporation and send him in the torture pit for centuries. He didn’t want to be be apart from the angel for too long, even if torture was always a treat.

He needed to see him.

He’d brought flowers again. They looked beautiful and smelled delicious. The angel would like them, he was sure. Just had to watch for that good for nothing Crawly. If only he could _destroy_ him for good !

Well… maybe he could. Nothing will stand between the two of them then. That would be a big declaration, getting rid of Aziraphale’s former demon. It would show how serious he was. The angel would be so _angry_ at first, it would probably lead to a great deal of violence. He couldn’t wait to put the mark of his claws on him again. Then Aziraphale would see he owned a true demonic Duke instead of a low-ranking demon. He would be so flattered. Well, he deserved a Duke. 

How to destroy Crawly, though ? Of course holy water was out of the question (didn’t work anyway. Stupid red-haired freak) but he had other means… He’d brought a truly evil blade with him (not the angel’s, he would never soil the angel’s blade with Crawly’s blood) and he knew where to strike to rip a soul out. When you knew where to look, you could rip everything you wanted…

So he was there, waiting in an alley near the bookshop, waiting for the right time to strike. Crowley was near the door, the angel nowhere to be seen. The ginger demon was fumbling his pockets, and fished out the keys to his car with a victorious expression.

Hastur crouched, blade at the ready. He was Seeing Crawly’s soul, the exact point where it was attached to his body and linked to his demonic energy. Just a little point between his shoulder blades. The junction of his wings. Easy to miss. Almost impossible to attain.

He’d done it before. Back Up, and Down There. He was an expert at this. That’s what had Satan make a Duke out of him.

Crawly opened the door, and Hastur prepared to leap. He already knew the other demon wouldn’t have time to react. He was _ dead meat _.

A heavy weight suddenly knocked him to the ground, air leaving his lungs under the attack. Something was on him, pinning him to the ground. Something dreadful, leaking ominous intentions of Wrath and Anger. Hastur started to tremble. He’d been terrified before, but this was even worse than the Fall, feeling his Grace reaped out and burning into flames that seemed to consume his core.

This was so terrible a sensation he thought of praying Her for one second. A voice growled near his ear, sending chills down his spine.

“You will _**NOT**_ destroy him. You will **_NOT_** threaten him. He is **_MINE_**, Duke Hastur. This demon belongs to **_ME_**, do you hear me ?”

He was brutally flipped over and was met with a burning stare. He knew he was crying, but couldn’t help it. He just wanted to disappear.

“Yes. Yes ! I won’t !”

“_**PROMESS**_ **_IT_** !”

“I won’t touch Crawly, I promise ! I’ll leave him be ! Please, Master, have mercy !”

“Good”

The awful sensation was suddenly gone, and Hastur wasn’t looking at red, horrendous eyes any more. 

The Antichrist smiled, and Hastur whimpered.

“If you want to be friends with uncle Aziraphale, that’s not the right way.” The boy seemed to ponder a moment, then brightened.

“Just offer him a book. He loves books. That should make him happy !”

Then the bubble that had them cut from the rest of the world popped, and Crowley’s voice reached them.

“Adam ? Where are you ? We need to go, kid, your parents are waiting for us in an hour !”

“You can’t ride to Tadfield in AN HOUR, Crowley ! You told me they were expecting us for _ diner _!”

“Well, I lied. It’s for lunch. We’ll be there on time, angel, stop fretting. Come on, get in.”

"Did you take his suitcase ?"

"Course I took it. T's in the boot."

“Adam, dear ? Are you here ?”

“Coming, uncle Z !” 

The boy ran away with a wave. The little dog yawned, then followed him.

Hastur finally breathed.

Crawly was off limits. He would have to find another way to get to his goal.

Books, uh ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hastur can not kill Crowley, or harm him. Don't worry, that leaves him a lot of ways to show his eternal love.


	17. "Stay with me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam is back home in Tadfield. It makes Aziraphale's worst fear resurface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst is back, my friends, and damn does it stricke hard...  
But do not fear, you know happy endings are my life.

Tadfield would always be Tadfield. The meal had been good, even if it was not the Ritz, and Adam’s parents were charming if a little confused at moments, briefly wondering how they’d chose these two nice men as godfathers to their son. Nothing a good angelic miracle couldn’t fix, when Aziraphale would have all of his Grace back.

They were currently on their way back to London, and Crowley was feeling slightly worried. Aziraphale seemed off.

”What’s on your mind, angel ?” Asked the demon kindly.

Aziraphale put on a smile. It looked fake, and Crowley didn’t like it.

“Nothing, dear. Just a little sad to part from the boy, is all.”

“He’ll be back for Christmas.”

“No, he wont. He will have Christmas here with his family.”

Aziraphale was looking out the window and looked...sad. Crowley had seen him in practically all emotional states through history, but sad was rare, sad was _bad_. His angel’s optimism was not easily squashed, and he dreaded the days it happened. Sadness led Aziraphale to Doubt. And Doubt was simply out of the question.

Crowley parked the car in a little path leading to the woods.

“Aziraphale. He’ll be back just the day after Christmas, he’ll stay eight days. That’s more than enough time to celebrate that damn holiday.”

The angel had tensed when the car had stopped and he was staring outside, pointedly not looking at Crowley.

“Yes. That will be nice.”

The demon gritted his teeth. Something was happening in his friend’s head, and he couldn’t fight it. This tended to put him on edge.

“Just… _talk_ to me, angel ! I’m not a bloody mind reader !”

“I’m fine ! I am perfectly...”

“Tickety-boo ?” prompted Crowley with a snarl. Aziraphale turned angrily in his seat to meet his eyes.

“Yes ! Is that a problem ?”

“It is when you’re lying to me ! Stop lying to me ! we’re not supposed to do that ! We’re on our own side, remember ?”

Aziraphale deflated. He looked back through the window again, then closed his eyes.

“I want to go home” he said in a quiet whisper.

Crowley drove back on autopilot. His mind was completely blank, he had no clever idea, and just didn’t know what to do or say to get out of this quagmire they seemed stuck in. The angel was in a bad place, and didn’t even want to argue. This was new. This was frightening.

When he parked in front of the bookshop and stopped the car, his friend frowned in confusion.

“You… aren’t you going to… go back to your place ?”

Crowley felt ice seizing his chest, and his breath hitched.

“Ah… yes, of course, if that’s what you want. Just… take care, angel.”

He fumbled clumsily with his keys, with the wretched feeling that these last months had been a dream and all was like it always had been again. He would have to stay around as long as Aziraphale didn’t get his Grace back, stay under the angel’s radar.

The Bentley’s engine didn’t start.

Aziraphale blinked slowly several times. Like he had a hard time processing.

“No. I mean. We just had a fight. You always go when we have a fight.”

That was... Low. True, but low. And it hurt.

Crowley prevented every natural answer coming to him. He_ did _do it every time they fought. He _had_. Sulking was a habit he’d cultivated to it’s peak. It was an art to him, really. But it wasn’t the same _now_, wasn’t it ?

He started to realise that maybe… maybe Aziraphale didn’t _know _that.

“Not this time. Fight all you want, I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want me to.”

Something fragile fleeted in the angel’s eyes. Like a spark of hope. He nodded and got out of the car. Crowley decided it was a tacit agreement to come inside.

There was an awkward moment after the door closed, but Aziraphale waved sheepishly in the back room’s direction, and he looked so _lost_ Crowley stopped feeling insecure and led the way. He would doubt himself later, the angel needed help, that much was obvious. He had the sinking feeling it was kind of his fault.

He slouched in his couch like nothing untoward had happened, and raised an eyebrow.

“D’you have something to drink, angel ? I’ll kill for a Bordeaux.”

Aziraphale stayed standing a few seconds before reacting.

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

A bottle miracled on the table, with two glasses. Crowley waited while the angel poured the wine with careful moves.

They didn’t clinked their glasses. Aziraphale didn’t do it on purpose. He just didn’t seem to remember it. Crowley carefully phrased his first question.

“So… Adam. Spending Christmas day with his family. What is bothering you with _that_, angel ?”

“Nothing. Of course it doesn’t bother me, that’s only natural, Christmas is a time for family.”

All right. No lie there. So it was not that.

“How do you intend to spend your Christmas, then ?”

“I… like every year, I guess. I’ll get out and help people. What about you ?”

Crowley was usually sleeping Christmas away. It was way too annoying. New Year was so much more interesting.

“Well… I thought maybe we could try special menu in a good restaurant. I don’t know if the Ritz has a Christmas menu, but...”

“But you _hate_ Christmas, Crowley.”

“Yeah. True. True. But… but you like it. don’t you ?”

“Yes, I like the spirit. Children are so joyous this time of year. It feels like...”

_Home,_ thought the demon, his heart aching. Aziraphale was missing Heaven.

“Do you… Are you… I mean, ‘t must be hard for you, not being able to come back Up… Do you want to… talk about it ?”

Wow. Talk. Him. About Heaven ? What was _wrong_ with him ? Where exactly did he take the turn that lead to Talking about Things ?

The angel seemed to think the same.

“Why, no ! Of course not ! What makes you think I would _miss_ Heaven ?

“Hu… Dunno ? You seemed to miss it. And your Grace would come back way quicker if you could just... pop up there for a while.”

“I’d rather wait years to have it back than get back _there_.”

“Well I hope it won’t take that long.”

Aziraphale’s face _crumbled _and his glass shook slightly in his hand. There ! That was _here_, that was somewhere here ! Crowley knew the solution was within his reach.

Why the idea of being back to his normal, powerful self was so awful to the angel ? Why did he think Crowley would go after arguing ? Why, _why_ had a discussion about being on ‘their own side’ put this wretched expression of forfeit on Aziraphale’s face ?

It all clicked into place.

Aziraphale knew his friend would never leave him without protection. Crowley wouldn’t go anywhere before the angel’s Grace was restored. He was right, the angel _was_ doubting. Not God, thank Someone, but… doubting Crowley.

Well that was _not_ a happy thought. He really wanted to shake his friend until his teeth rattled, but this may not be the good timing for that.

Ironically, his first thought was to get up, slam the door and get back home to brood angrily. That would be sending very mixed messages, and probably break what was left of Aziraphale’s confidence. If you thought about it (and Bless, Crowley was thinking so fast he couldn’t take the slightest turn for fear of spinning off the road) the angel’s fear was not exactly unfounded.

He did leave a lot. But he always came back ! Aziraphale knew that ! He always, always did.

He gulped down what was left of his wine and cleared his throat. Oh, flames. If he couldn’t run away and wait long enough to be able to pretend nothing happened, there was no other choice than having a serious discussion.

“You know I won’t leave, right ?”

Aziraphale looked up in confusion. The demon launched another attempt.

“I mean… I’m not going anywhere. If that’s what’s bothering you... Is… is that what it’s all about ?”

The angel fidgeted uncomfortably.

“I… I know. I know that, Crowley. It is only… I am afraid I will have some difficulties to get used to being… alone. For a while. But I am confident it will quickly come back.”

“What’d you mean, alone ? You’re not alone, ‘m here !”

“I mean alone here, Crowley. Alone in the bookshop. There has been too much… life here these last months. I’m afraid I’ve gotten used to it. I knew how to handle periods of time by myself, but I am not certain I remember how to process it any more...”

The angel’s gaze drifted to the side. Crowley thought about it. There was too much weight behind that little declaration. ‘Handle periods of time’… if he thought about it, it could mean a_ lot _of different things. He was fairly certain Aziraphale was not speaking of spending a weekend alone with his books.

He’d never wondered how Aziraphale coped with boredom. The angel never seem to be the kind to _get _bored… Crowley usually slept these moments away. He could sleep for decades if needed. His friend on the other hand _never_ slept. And he loved to talk, argue, discuss… couldn’t shut up once he’d drank a few glasses, really.

But he almost _never_ see him discuss with humans. Not like _they_ did. Crowley himself was OK with it, never had been the sharing type. Talking to Aziraphale was enough for him. But he was realising something unsettling. Aziraphale _was_ the type. Did he ever had anyone else to talk besides Crowley for the last 6000 years ? Was it the reason he made friends with some of humanity’s writers and philosophers, taking the risk to suffer when they passed away just to be able to share and exchange from time to time ? The demon had vaguely assumed angels were always blabbering with each other, but his last excursion in Heaven had showed him said angels were not fond of Aziraphale, and were really, really shallow. They wouldn’t want to discuss with his friend, and he would have no interest in it if they had.

Wow. That kind of explained the angel’s reaction to his reappearing after a 97 years nap. He’d thought the hug was a little over the top (and very, very dangerous. They were in the middle of the street. They could have been _seen_ !) but now it kind of made sense. What the angel was not saying was not said in a really loud way.

‘_Stay with me. don’t leave me alone.’_

He suddenly felt really mad at God, Heaven, Humanity and himself for not seeing this sooner. He really had thought the angels _liked_ Aziraphale up there, though. Had he _known_, he would have acted differently. He hoped he would have. He jumped to the best way to right things up, right now.

“I could live here. Almost am already. M’bored in my flat, only go back for the plants, really. The couch’s much more comfortable than my bed anyway. You wouldn’t be alone.”

Aziraphale looked _shocked_.

_F__uck_, he was sure it was a good solution to the matter at hand. It seemed ideal. Crowley started to rack his brain again.

“You… you would come live here ? Really ? Like that ?” Asked the angel with wonder.

_Oh_. Maybe he had it right, for once ! That was a happy shock. Great ! Crowley smiled.

“Yeah. I mean, of course. If it’s not an imposition. I like it here, could be our new H.Q. We need one now, after all. T’s way classier than _theirs_.”

Aziraphale was looking at his wine now. The demon let him be, knowing he needed time to process. He refilled his glass and took a sip before letting a contented sigh out. It was a good idea. He loved the bookshop (and the feeling was obviously mutual, he knew it even without the ability to sense love). His flat had never loved him. T’was just a flat. His plants would fit nicely upstairs, and the light was good. They would have to behave with the angel, but his example with the snarky Peace Lilly would probably prevent them from even _look__ing_ at Aziraphale the wrong way for the following decade.

The angel stirred. Crowley looked at him expectantly. Aziraphale’s eyes were alight with his usual warmth and happiness again.

“You know, my dear, I think this is a most _excellent_ idea.”

Crowley grinned.

“Let’s celebrate, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be funny, I promess !  
I already know WHO will be in it. (diabolical laugh)


	18. Muffled Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel comes to visit.  
He has a surprising request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really had a GREAT time writing that one.

Crowley’s moving in was surprisingly not going on as smoothly as they’d both imagined. First, there were the plants. Crowley was adamant about NOT miraculing them in their new home, and Aziraphale, quite set himself in his ways about ancient books, didn’t object to that.

But transporting a lot of huge plants in a vintage Bentley was strangely difficult. The smaller ones had been easy to transport. But the real challenge was starting now. They were on the pavement, arguing about a sunroof.

“Absolutely out of the question ! Don’t even THINK about it, angel !”

Crowley was yelling, hands on the hood, in a half threatening, half protective position. Aziraphale was not impressed.

“You will never fit them in here without miraculing a sunroof, and the seats out.”

“Don’t listen to him, love. I won’t let him” cooed Crowley to the hood.

“Stop talking to the car, Crowley ! You know I’m right !”

Crowley threw a withering glare at the offensive plant, who started to tremble.

“We could make _IT _fit in. Give me the shears, angel.”

“Now, no need to be dramatic. We can have people move them for us.”

Crowley blinked.

“What ?”

“A removal human, dear. They have special lorries for that” explained the angel with great patience.

“I know what a moving van is, angel, I’m just surprised _ you _ do.”

Aziraphale huffed in offence and tugged at his waistcoat.

“That was uncalled for, really. I am merely trying to help.”

“Yeah, yeah, OK. We’ll call the bloody movers. Let’s get that a-hole back up”

“I thought it was a fiddle leaf fig”

“Yeah, that’s the Latin name”

“This is not Latin, Crowley.”

“Are you sure ? Little to the right. Yup, careful, stairs behind you.”

“This is _ so _ much fun. Exactly the Monday afternoon I was dreaming about, walking your two hundred pounds giant plant on the street like a poodle.”

“I know, that’s why I suggested it, to make you happy. Now you owe me an outing.”

“Well, let me think about it. You rose the stakes so _ high _ I don’t know if I will _ ever _ be able to thank you.”

Crowley chuckled. He was greatly enjoying _ his _Monday afternoon.

Three hours and one shirashi-to-go later, they finally stepped back into the bookshop. Aziraphale sighed tiredly, handed his bag to Crowley who took it wordlessly with an inquiring eyebrow, and headed straight to the back room.

“What are you doing here, Gabriel ?” He called as he walked in. A crash resounded behind him as Crowley dropped the bag and ran to catch up.

The archangel was looking around him with a proprietary air, hands clasped behind his back and looking as smug as ever. Crowley hissed. Aziraphale outstretched his arm to prevent him from advancing. Gabriel always had been a trigger-happy smiting freak.

“Aziraphale ! How are you ?”

Crowley was currently thinking of so many insults the traffic jam from his brain to his mouth was preventing any of them to get out. The freakin’ bastard was not even trying to look apologetic. It was like he didn’t even want to _ KILL _ Aziraphale only months ago. There was only one thing preventing Crowley from ripping the archangel’s heart out of his chest before cutting it into tiny pieces : the certitude that he would get killed before even laying a hand on the douchebag.

“What do you want, Gabriel ?” Asked the angel coldly.

“Now, don’t be like that, Aziraphale. We’re friends, aren’t we ? Co-workers ?”

“Yes, we _ were _ one of these things. Just say what you have to say and get out of my shop.”

“Well, I see consorting with the _ demon _ got you even more disrespectful than you already were.”

Aziraphale stiffened. He didn’t like the way Gabriel had pronounced ‘demon’, like it was soiling his corporation just to say it.

“And consorting with Hell doesn’t seem to have changed you one bit.”

“Well, thank you.”

_ That wasn’t a compliment, you prick ! _Thought Crowley very hard.

Gabriel clasped his hands loudly. Aziraphale repressed a start. Crowley hissed again, his hand clawing painfully into his friends shoulder as he tried to drag him back. The angel seemed rooted to the floor.

_ Fuck your fucking pride and stubbornness, Aziraphale ! _

“I have good news !” Said the beaming Archangel. “You can come back ! You are forgiven !”

A heavy silence answered him. Crowley stopped struggling.

“You are surprised, I can understand. Full immunity ! We will even forget about the sword.”

“What do you mean, ‘come back’ ? You want me to come to Heaven ?” asked an incredulous angel.

“Oh no ! No, absolutely not ! You would be bad influence there, you understand ? Right ? No, here, on earth. Continue your good work, like before.”

“You mean… continuing thwarting the wiles of the demon Crowley ?” The Principality asked slowly.

“Yes, exactly !”

“Crowley, who is just standing right here, in front of you ?”

Gabriel’s smile faltered a bit but was back in place, extra bright, one second later.”

“That’s it !”

“So… if I understand correctly, you want me to stay on earth and do exactly what I did these last thousand years. Which was, as you perfectly know by now, eating a lot, drinking even more, and consorting actively with the enemy.”

Gabriel’s smile could have been used for a toothpaste commercial, thought Crowley absent-mindedly.

“I’m glad we have similar views on the subject ! Good. Really good.”

“We don’t”

“What ?” Asked an incredulous Gabriel.

“What ?” Asked an incredulous demon.

“I don’t want to work for Heaven any more. I assumed I was fired, as the humans put it, when you tried to _ burn _ me, but it appears I have to quit.”

“Don’t be stupid, angel. Watch your mouth” whispered Crowley frantically, horror suffusing him. He could almost smell sulphur.

“You will Fall !” Threatened the archangel with wide eyes. There was fear in these eyes, realised Crowley.

“I highly doubt it. I never renounced God, and I intend to serve Her like I always had. I am merely cutting out the middlemen.”

“Don’t do this ! You need us ! You need Heaven ! You can not serve Her without answering to us, Aziraphale !”

“I certainly can. Humans do it since the dawn of time.”

“You _ have _to forgive us !”

Aziraphale tilted his head.

“What do you mean, forgive you ? I thought you wanted me back to work.”

“That’s the same !”

“I have trouble following you, Gabriel. Do you want me to come back or to forgive you ?”

“Forgive ! You have to forgive ! Now ! She will absolve us if you forgive !”

Aziraphale paled and made a tentative step back. Crowley laid a comforting hand between his shoulder-blades. He really didn’t know what else to do. This conversation was surreal.

“She… She talked to you ?” asked the angel in a trembling voice.

“Yes, She said she was the only one to judge angels and we overstepped. She said she would punish us for trying to destroy you with hellfire if you didn’t forgive us for it.” said Gabriel with a pout.

Crowley was trembling with rage. He wanted so much to _ DO _ something. But it was Aziraphale’s call. And there was not a chance the angel wouldn’t grant his pardon. He could sense his friends feelings, a turmoil of emotions so overwhelming he was shaking, but the greatest of all was a deep, heart breaking _ relief _. For Her not rejecting him.

_ I hate you. I hate you for doing this to him. He loves you so much, and when you finally decide to say he took the right decision, you talk to fucking GABRIEL? _

“So...” Gabriel outstretched his hands with a conniving smile.

_ Oh no. He’s gonna do it. Aziraphale always forgives . He’s gonna fucking do it and I can’t stop it, cause it’s just him, right ? And you know it, you bloody twat ! You KNOW he will forgive you ! _

Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath, then sighed in regret.

“I really am deeply sorry, Gabriel. I cannot help you.”

“WHAT ?”

Gabriel was still gaping incredulously when a beam of light illuminated him. He disappeared in a blink, only leaving the echo of a muffled scream behind.

“Oh, dear. What a waste” murmured the angel.

Crowley realised his friend was talking about the bloody chirashi.

“Angel...”

“Yes, dear ?” asked Aziraphale, miraculing his meal back in shape.

“What… angel, what did you just do ? You always forgive. God wanted you to forgive, why did you...”

His friend frowned at him.

“Crowley, God didn’t want me to forgive. She left me a choice. And of course I would have, but I couldn’t. It would have been very bad of me to do it.”

“Wh… I don’t understand, angel ! Why ?”

Aziraphale turned innocent eyes in his direction.

“But, my dear, he never _ asked _ for my forgiveness. Not once.”

Crowley replayed the conversation in his head.

“That… that is… you’re playing a dangerous game, angel.”

“Honestly, Crowley, absolution can only be given when there is true repentance.”

The demon relaxed a little. That was true. She was quite adamant on that. Still…

“Well, She didn’t say _ absolution _ . You can forgive someone even if he shows no remorse. You’re doing it all the time with _ me _.”

The angel smiled serenely.

“I know, dear, but I just couldn’t. It was impossible, for there was really nothing to forgive.”

Crowley took his glasses off and stared at his friend.

Aziraphale’s smile crooked a little, in a slightly rascal way.

“I’m not the one they tried to burn, Crowley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've waited SO long to see Gabriel punished. And then, I read a fantastic story this morning that had me foaming at the mouth at the freakin' ass-pipe. (megzseattle's "Flufftober prompt" number 18 if you're wondering. But really my hatred for Gabe had been rekindled by her story "baby you can drive my car.")
> 
> And then... Epiphany. I could punish him MYSELF !
> 
> Take that Gabe, that's for making an adorable angel SAD !!!


	19. Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is black smoke at the corner of Aziraphale's street.  
The demon driving towards it is not happy to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, some angst again ! How did it get here ?
> 
> Warning : trigger: momentary death by fumes/child. No graphic depiction. Happy ending guaranteed.

The smoke was not visible at first, and if Crowley was driving so fast, it was merely for the hilarity the muted shrieks of Aziraphale always elicited in him.

Then, turning a familiar corner, he saw it. Black smoke coming from Aziraphale’s street. The Bentley decelerated for a few seconds without any gas supply, before leaping forward at full speed.

“Crowley ! What in Heaven are you… oh. Oh, no.”

Crowley’s mind was running wildly on two tracks. The first was a wild scream that just ran in a loop, fed by memories of burning books and awful feelings of doom and heartbreak.

_ Not again not THIS again this can’t be happening NO this is not real not again ! _

The second and way calmer voice was also on a loop, a short and soothing one.

_ Aziraphale is here with you. Aziraphale is here, with you. Aziraphale is HERE with you. _

“Oh, God” whispered the angel, briefly closing his eyes. “My bookshop. My _books_…”

And the way Crowley’s friend uttered that word was heart-shattering. The books, yes.

“Oh… and your _plants_, Crowley...” added the angel, opening his eyes again. There were way too shiny.

_ Fuck my plants ! Why on earth are you thinking about my stupid PLANTS ? _

The Bentley couldn’t take a turn on two wheels, but had she been able to do it, she would have. The bookshop was…

Perfectly fine, actually. Not a smudge. The smoke was coming from across the street.

_Thank G… thank Someone_. Crowley sagged in relief, his forehead on the steering wheel.

“Oh NO !” Cried Aziraphale, springing out of the car. “Oh, there are _people_ in there !”

He sounded even more horrified than a minute ago. What was _wrong_ with that angel ? Who cared about a stupid building full of humans ? It was not the bookshop, that was _good news_.

“Crowley, we have to help !”

“Firemen are here. Well, they’re not very good, if I recall correctly, but it’s their jobs. Come on, let’s go home and have a drink.”

“Don’t make jokes now, Crowley. This is _so not_ the time !”

And the angel was gone.

Yes, right. What a good idea, miraculing himself in a burning building while lacking at least half of his Grace. Stupid angel.

The fire was not blazing at the upper floors. Crowley tried to sense human presence, but his demonic ability was not accurate with panic and fear. It just generated a warm, happy feeling in his chest. No need for him to go to a hopeless human. He could pinpoint the doubt and the urge to sin. But people needing help ? Didn’t needed _him_. There was someone, that much he could say. Their despair was delectable. He focused on Aziraphale’s presence. The angel would know where to go.

Here. Just behind that door.

“Oi, angel !”

“I’ve got her ! There is no one else left, let us go before she inhales too much smoke.”

Aziraphale was holding a little girl. She was crying and struggling as if the angel was kidnapping her. She wasn't even three years old by the look of it.

“I want I want I want my dooooooll ! I want my doooool !”

Crowley touched her forehead gently and she collapsed in the angel’s arms.

“She’ll breathe less like that. Asphyxiation’s a bitch” the demon defended himself faced with the angel’s frown.

“You are right. Crowley, could you...”

“I won’t go get that blessed doll, angel”

“Crowley, she really cares for it. She loves it, it’s important to her.”

“Angel, I’m not a bloody nanny anymore ! She’ll get other dolls ! Come ON !”

Aziraphale just _stared_ at him with those damn puppy eyes. Crowley wanted to yell in frustration.

_Fuck_, he was such a sucker for this !

“You’ll owe me, I swear, angel, you will !”

“Of course, dear.”

Aziraphale disappeared in a blink, getting back to the bookshop. Miraculing in a street full of people was not a good move. He laid the child on an armchair and waited for his demon. They had to give back the girl and her doll together. A nice policeman could find her wandering just outside the building. It would be consider a miracle without anyone thinking of an actual one.

Crowley sure took his time. The angel was starting to worry when his friend popped back, white as a sheet, the doll craddled in his arms. One look at his face filled Aziraphale with an icy dread.

“Crowley, what happened ? Are you all right ?”

The demon looked through him before focusing, life coming back to his eyes. Then he slowly loosened his grip to reveal…

“Dear God...” whispered the angel, reaching out. “This is not a doll”.

The baby blinked tiredly.

“I don’t understand. I didn’t sense anyone else.”

“There wasn’t anyone else” rasped the demon.

Aziraphale gasped.

“Crowley, this is highly dangerous ! Humans are not birds, you could have been...”

“I _know_ ! Just… take the bloody brat and do what you have to do, angel.”

Aziraphale obeyed, eyeing his friend as he collapsed on the couch with a heavy sigh. He snapped his fingers and the girl and the baby were suddenly huddled on a pile of emergency blanket at the back of an ambulance, both of them warm and fast asleep. They would have luck for the rest of their existences.

He crouch near the demon and touched his forehead. Yellow eyes blinked at him.

“That was… very, very stupid, Crowley” he murmured.

The demon blinked again.

“I am so, so angry at you right now.”

Crowley hummed in approval. He would be angry at himself if it wasn’t so bloody tiring.

Aziraphale ensconced him in warm Grace, ignoring the feeble protests of the demon. He had recuperated enough for _this._

He took Crowley’s hand and cradled it between his.

“This is such an _honour_ to be called your friend, my _dear_, _stupid_ demon.”

“Don’t go all... mushy on me angel” grumbled Crowley, trying his best to look offended.

“I can and I will. It’s your punishment for worrying me.”

And, well. Punishment apparently entailed a cup of coffee, a warm blanket and an angel reading to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like protective Crowley^^
> 
> I have already heard a little girl call her baby brother her "doll" so... it was good for the plot !  
Had Crowley been alone, he'd definitely have searched for the doll anyway. We all know that. Having Aziraphale asking him to do it is just good to his demonic ego. "Hey, I didn't wanted to. HE asked."


	20. Trembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale sometimes loses track of time when he's reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, I'm so sorry ! I just couldn't write yesterday (I stared at my computer for three hours, only writing one sentence, and drinking tea. Ok, and a beer^^.)
> 
> But I'll make up ! I'm starting my next chapter now, and I will not rest before finishing it !

Aziraphale was humming absent-mindedly, focused on his book. He turned a page with careful gloved fingers, and reached negligently for his mug of tea. He took a sip and cringed at the awful, ice-cold liquid. How long had it been there ?

He paused in his reading. Looked at the mug again. How long had it been there ?

There was a thin layer of dust on his sleeve.

Oh, dear. Not again.

He carefully closed his book, raised, and stretched his shoulders.

“Crowley ? Are you here ?”

No answer. Well, that wasn’t a surprise. Maybe his friend had decided to take a stroll. He walked in the back room, surprised by the cold reigning in there. The fire must have burned out days ago. Where was...

There was a demon laying on the couch, buried in an impressive bundle of blankets.

“Crowley ?”

The ginger menace shuffled with a groan.

“Crowley, wake up.”

A yellow eye slowly opened and fixed the angel with what was probably meant as a glare.

“My dear, what are you doing ? It is freezing in here.”

“Mmmmziraphaaaale ?”

“I guess it is me. What is happening here exactly ?”

“Nnnap. Taking a.”

“In that icy cold ?”

“T’was hot when I started. Thought you’d take care of the fire.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Are you saying you are freezing to discorporation because of me, Crowley ?”

The demon blinked slowly. His friend could almost see the congealed gears trying to get back to work in his brain.

“Hnnnn… yes ?”

The angel snapped downwards and a blazing fire roared. The temperature of the room shoot up in a hurry, almost apologizing for the delay. Aziraphale then laid a hand on Crowley’s chest and the demon suddenly started to tremble under a wave of _heat_.

“Ow ! _Bless_, angel, what’you doing ?” He erupted angrily, trying to sit up as fast and dignified as possible with all the obstructing blankets and huging himself to calm his shivers.

“Warming you. You’re welcome”

“You _burned_ me !”

“Oh, _please_, Crowley ! You’re a demon, you can hardly burn.”

“Doesn’t mean it does not _hurt_ !”

“Why, I really am sorry, my dear.”

“No you’re not !”

“You are right, I am not. Thinking _I_ would take care of the fire during your little suicidal nap, really !”

“What ? What ? T’s your thing ! You’re _considerate _!”

“You don’t have to say it like an insult. And you know how I act when I read.”

“Didn’t know it would take _that_ long ! You read fast !”

“It was a Prophecy book, Crowley ! These are not to be read, these are to be comprehended. I could have been at it for weeks. What would have happened to you then ?”

Crowley sat back in his blankets, still quite offended at what he was certain was an undeserved treatment.

“I guess I would have transformed into a snake and start hibernating.”

“Oh” Snarled Aziraphale with all the sarcasm he could muster (which was a _LOT_) “Really ?”

“Well, yeah. What else ?”

Both angel and demon stared at each other in confusion. Aziraphale deflated, his annoyance giving way to genuine surprise.

“So… the cold can’t discorporate you ?”

Crowley snorted.

“Not _this_ cold, angel. Takes way more than _that_.”

“Oh. Oh, well, then. Good to know. Sorry I snapped. Get back to sleep, I won’t bother you. And I’ll take care of the fire.”

Crowley eyed his friend like he was a lunatic, and huffed in an ostensible long suffering manner.

“You better be. Don’t wake me up again, you stupid angel.”

Aziraphale let him bury back in his nest (there really wasn’t any other word for that) and waited five more minutes just to be sure. Then he snapped his fingers again and a bottle of wine appeared with a glass. He opened the bottle with a very loud “pop”.

The mountain of blankets, which had looked motionless, suddenly turned _STILL._

The angel started pouring, the wine sloshing with delightful delicate noises.

The blankets moved frantically. A fiery tuft of hair emerged.

“Angel...” Growled Crowley.

Aziraphale looked at him with a surprise that turned into a slightly overplayed remorse.

“Oh, I am _so_ sorry, dear boy. Did I disturb your sleep ? Do not worry, I will go into the kitchen and you will not hear anything from here. Well, nighty night, see you soon.”

By the time his sentence was ending, the angel was at the door, bottle, glass and some books bundled into his arms. Crowley stared at the empty door frame for a minute. Then he got on his feet and hurried to the stairs, taking a huge breath.

“ANGEL ! Don’t you_ dare_ drink that without me, you bastard !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was fun to read ! I wanted it to be funny ! They're roomates after all, they need to adapt to each other's habits.


	21. Laced Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our dear boys have a night out.  
Somebody wants to offer a drink to his angel.  
Spoilers : I'm not talking about Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Story is for megzseattle who had the SPLENDID idea of (deleted to avoid spoil)  
Thank you megz, this was just perfect for this prompt !
> 
> So sorry for the delay !

The bar was overcrowded, the people loud and flashy, the music deafening.

Crowley was having the _ time of his life. _

Aziraphale was miserable and consoled himself with as many colourful drinks with little parasols in it as he could get his hands on, which was _ hilarious. _

“Cheer up, angel, you promised you’ll owe me one.”

“I never thought you would _ claim _it.”

“And miss _ that _ face ? No freakin’ way !”

“Could you at least… _ excuse me, my dear girl, but these are my knees, not a seat. No no, I’d rather have them free, thank you _. Could you at least stop the swearing ? I would appreciate it immensely.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll try my best” answered Crowley absent-mindedly as he cursed the overstepping girl with split hair for the next year. Flustered, out of place Aziraphale was funny. Withdrawn, ill at ease Aziraphale was not. What was wrong with humans, always trying to touch people they didn’t even _ know _ ? This was _ disgusting. _

He grabbed the back of his friend’s bar stool (bar stool with backs, really. Not even fun. How were the tipsy humans supposed to fall ?) and pulled it just next to his. Aziraphale let out a “Wooooops !” and prevented his drink to spill, but didn’t seem surprised.

Crowley leaned towards him in a possessive, slightly menacing stance that seemed to work. Bloody humans and their bloody hormones.

Raising his hand, he asked for more whisky and another cocktail for the angel. Since his deplorable experience with sage alcohol, he just couldn’t bear the idea of shots any more, and that was sad. He really had liked shots.

  
  


* * *

Sarah was tired. She’d had a six hours shift and only two hours sleep before that jerk Carl called to ask her to take the night shift also. She perfectly knew he would not take no for an answer. People were wild, it was friday night and there had been some stupid sport’s final on television that day. She just wanted them to go home and never come back. Except maybe for the weird couple at the end of the bar, just minding their own business.

The tall, red haired one raised his hand in a graceful movement. For the sixth time in the last hour, she stopped serving whoever was facing her and promptly took the orders of the fascinating man in black and his fair-haired, soothing companion. She smiled at the blond one when she handed him the cocktail with a cute violet and black umbrella. The man chuckled when he saw it.

That was strange, really. The man wasn’t particularly attractive, he looked like an overdressed (and out of fashion) teacher. He had been bickering since the two of them had sat, and huffed in annoyance every two minutes. And still, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even if looked gayer than her uncle Ned and was way too old. He’d smile to her every time she’d brought him a drink, and every time her heart missed a beat, and for a second she felt just _ fine _ . So _ fine… _

She was attracted to him. Couldn’t help it.

Apparently, she was not the only one. A strange man (okay, a disgusting man, looked like he just got out from his grave. Smelled the same) had just asked for a flute of champagne and turned it down when she handed it over to him to point to the cute (cute ? Why was she thinking that ?) teacher in light colours.

“That’s for him. From an admirer.”

Then he’d made some kind of funny gesture, a little like the one her grandmother did when she saw a black cat, and got out. Well, she was pretty sure she saw him get out. He couldn’t have just disappear, after all, right ?

She’d brought the drink, and said the line. The fair man with the beautiful smile had lighted up in delight. “A gift ? This is so nice ! I love champagne !”

The other one had bitched. “T’s not NICE ! T’s called harassing, angel ! Give that to me, you’ll only encourage them if you drink it !” and he had angrily fetched the glass and gulped the champagne down before slamming the flute on the counter with an offended expression.

“Oh, dear” had muttered the… well, she couldn’t call him anything else than “angel” now. It fitted so well, strangely. “I do so love champagne.”

But he hadn’t looked angry, only a little disappointed, and she’d brought him another flute, on the house. Carl could go fuck himself. He had _ smiled _(she’d missed at least three heartbeats on that one and forgot about the late rent for five glorious seconds) and raised a challenging eyebrow at his companion before taking a sip.

“I hope you will let me drink _ that _ one, my dear.”

“Course I will. _ She _’s not hitting on you. She’s just desperate and pitiful and ready to break down. Wants to pilfer some angelic warmth, nothing more.”

Sarah had just stood there for a few seconds and felt tears pooling in her eyes, but all the others customers were there, and she had work, and she just couldn’t run away and hide in the lavatory right now.

The "angel" seemed mad. That didn’t even cheered her up.

  


* * *

  


“Why did you say such an_ awful _thing, Crowley ?”

“What’d I do ?”

“You made her miserable !”

“She already was, look at her. She’s been thinking awful things about her boss since we got in. Wants to do some pretty nasty stuff to him. She won’t, though. Too righteous. But a good demon could maybe push her enough for her to break and...”

Aziraphale was frozen in place.

“You… you _ wouldn’t _ !”

“Naaahhh…. Too much work, probably for no result at all. She’s a _ good _ girl. Free will an’ all. She wouldn’t do it, in the end. Fantasy to act is a pretty big step. Waste of demonic energy.”

The angel slammed his fist on the counter and Crowley blinked in surprise.

“You wouldn’t push her even if you thought there was a chance !”

“‘Course I wouldn’t. Focusing so much time and efforts on one tiny human ? That’s just stupid. M’not stupid.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Why are you saying all this ? And why were you so cruel to her ? It just isn’t you.”

“But it’s the truth, angel. And I’m way nastier than you think I am. I can do cruel things.” Crowley grinned, showing way too many teeth for his human corporation. Aziraphale brusquely got up.

“If you’re going to act like this, I’m calling it a night. I’m going home, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Crowley’s hand shot and grasped his arm.

“Hey ! Don’t go ! You said you’d follow wherever I wanted ! You owe me a night out !”

“I don’t want to spend a night out with you in this state of mind. You obviously have some craving for viciousness.”

“I’ve never been vicious in my life !” Protested the demon.

Aziraphale pondered. But on the corner of his eye he saw the waitress brusquely getting in the kitchen with her face so scrunched up it seemed like a mask, and he knew she wasn’t going there to fetch some ice.

“Goodnight, Crowley” he said coldly, before freeing his arm and walking away. He should do something for the poor girl, but felt too wretched to help her. He would have to come back again tomorrow.

He wandered in the streets like a lost soul, thinking of their conversation. It wasn’t the first time the demon had shocked him, but it had felt different. There was something scary in the answers his friend just gave him. He didn’t lie one bit.

He… he was really honest. He could at least have spared the poor girl’s feelings, couldn’t he ?

Couldn’t he ?

Aziraphale had the vision of a tiny glass filled with a green liquid. Last night out didn’t have ended well for Crowley. What if…

What were the chances that this kind of thing could happen twice in so few months ? They’d been really serious on their drinks. Except for the offered glass.

What were the chances that Crowley would say these kind of things ? Of course he would think them, but he knew better than to say it out loud, specially in front of his angelic friend. Something was _ wrong _.

Aziraphale turned back, and bumped into a demon.

It was not the one he was looking for.

“Hey, angel”

Aziraphale stiffened in disgust.

“Do you want me to smite you again, lord Hastur ?”

“No need, no need… I’m here to talk.”

Hastur was walking slowly, hands in his pockets, and Aziraphale suddenly realised he was circling him in a very familiar motion. He felt sick.

“Talk ?”

“Yes, talk… I want to know if you liked the flowers”

This was the last topic Aziraphale would have thought of, alone in an alley with a vicious and demented demon way stronger than himself.

“The flowers ? Yes, that was… very nice.”

“I’m not nice, I’m never nice. I wanted to show you I think about you.”

_ God. Oh, God, please help me wake up. _

“Well… message received, I guess. Is that all ? I have to go.”

“No ! I want to know what you think of me ! Tell me how to do it !”

“Do… what, exactly ?”

_ God, now would be a good moment to wake me up, if it is not too much to ask, of course. _

“How to have you ! For myself alone ! How to be your only demon. How to_ possess _ you ! I’ll do anything ! I can kill other angels, the ones that threw you out ! Would that please you ?”

_ You will so never in all eternity to come possess anything even remotely related to me, you horrible, disgusting creature ! _

“Get back to Hell, Hastur. There is nothing for you here.”

“No, you have to answer ! You have no choice but to answer !”

There was some kind of… surprise, on Hastur face.

“I certainly will not answer such a ridiculous question.”

“But… you drank it. I saw you. You drank the glass.”

Aziraphale had a lot of failings. He was perfectly aware of that. But he was not stupid. Everything clicked.

“The drink !”

Angelic wrath brusquely deployed and hit Hastur in a tide.

“WHAT WAS IN THAT DRINK ?”

The Duke of Hell was smiling like a child on Christmas day.

“Truth potion. The strongest. I want to know if you like me !”

“How long will it last ?” Asked a slightly more calm angel.

“Don’t know. A day, maybe two ?”

The Principality’s eyes flashed, and his mouth set in a firm line.

“Well… I see. Good day, Lord Hastur.”

And Aziraphale turned around and promptly got back from where he came, ignoring the demon completely.

Hastur, who just had received the most withering glare of his existence (and he lived in Hell), stood there for at least twenty minutes, rooted on the spot from sheer adoration.

  
  
  


Crowley hadn’t moved from the bar, and was slouching on the counter, talking to the waitress.

“’M sorry. Really sorry. T’wasn’t very nice. M’not nice, but it wasn’t all the same.”

“It’s all right, sir. Stop apologising. I’m fine.”

She looked… better. Aziraphale sighed in relief. His friend was…okay, let’s say. He hopped the drug would erase all memory of this night. Crowley would be mortified to know he had apologised to a stranger.

“Crowley, let’s go home, will you ?”

“Angel ! You came back ! Why did you came back ? I don’t care, I’m happy you did ! Wine ? We should drink wine ! I promise I won’t make you mad again, don’t go away !”

“I’m not. But we should go home. There is something I have to tell you.”

“Oh. Oh… is it… is it bad news ? You don’t want to live together any more ? I make too much noise ! I knew I was making too much noise ! You like calm ! Books don’t talk all the time like me. Books are so _ clever _...”

“Stop being stupid for one minute, will you. You can’t afford to be drunk _ now. _Sober up, Crowley.”

“Why ? Drunk is fine, angel ! You should do it too !”

“Humour me, will you, my dear. Please, sober up.”

“Course I will ! I’ll do anything you ask, angel.”

The demon grimaced and straightened up with a shark’s smile.

“See ? Sobered up. You happy ?”

“How do you feel ?”

“Normal. Relieved. Why ?”

The angel brightened.

“Why do you feel relieved ? Did sobering up… lifted something out of your mind ?”

“I’m glad you came back. I hate it when you’re angry at me.”

“Oh, dear. Let’s go home, Crowley.”

Aziraphale extended a hand and the waitress walked a few steps in a daze to take it. He covered it with is other hand.

“You will quit this dreadfull position, right this instant. Then you will go home and sleep. Tomorrow you will search for another job in Soho, and you will find a good one. Off you go, now, my child.”

They both watched the woman walk away.

“Why in Soho ?” Asked Crowley in genuine interest.

“She always dreamt to live there. I can understand that. She will fine a nice little loft for a modest rent.”

“What about the girl’s asshole manager ? What will you do ?”

“Why, nothing of course. I am sure you already have something all planned up for him.”

The demon grinned.

“I have”

“So… home ?”

Crowley frowned and snapped his fingers. They were suddenly in the bookshop.

“What is so important you have to say it home ? Just spit it out, angel.”

“As you wish. You are under the effects of a truth serum, Crowley. You can not lie. Hastur put it in my glass and you drank it.”

“… What ?”

“You drank a truth serum.”

“Hastur… you said Hastur ! Where is he ? Was he there ? How do you know he gave you a...”

Crowley suddenly stopped talking and sniffed the air like a hound.

“Hassssstur... he was… with you ?”

“Yes. But we didn’t fight, don’t fret.”

Crowley started circling his angel and Aziraphale tensed.

“Sssomething happened. You’re not well. What did he DO ?”

“Nothing, I assure you. Just… can you stop walking ? I am feeling a trifle dizzy.”

Crowley stopped dead on tracks.

“He didn’t _DARE_ !”

“What ?”

“He _did_ it, didn’t he ?” Crowley made a circling motion with his hand.

“Yes, he did. What is it with that ? I thought it was one of your quirks, but he did it just the same, and that felt… not good”

“I’m going to kill that bastard ! I’ll discorporate him into oblivion !” Exploded Crowley, radiating Evil energy all of a sudden.

“Crowley ! What does that mean ?”

“T’s like a cat. You know ? When they rub their back on your leg to mark you.”

“Oh, that’s _great_. I feel so happy you are marking me like an old tree.”

“T’s not like... Okay, that’s a little like that. ‘m a demon ! It’s not conscious ! ‘T just feels like you’re mine, so I do it !”

The angel fretted with his cuffs, torn between vexation and amusement.

“Well, I guess I should be glad you compared that to a cat, not a dog.”

“I would never ! Dogs are stupid. They’re like angels, all obedient and happy and accepting all the crap their masters throw at them.”

_ He is not saying all that to anger you. Don’t smite him. Not his fault. He would not SAY that in his right mind. _ But he was thinking it, right ?

“Why, thank you” said Aziraphale tersely.

“Not you !” Snarled the demon. “You’re smart. You’re too smart for Heaven. Good thing you quit. You were bad at your job anyway.”

“Crowley ?”

“Yup ?”

“Shut up, please.”

“Yeah, that’s probably best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So megzeattle suggested truth serum for laced drink, and I so love truth serum fics !  
It inspired me a little too much, I have to say. So next chapter will take place right after that, and Crowley will still be under the effect of that sweet sweet potion.  
Aziraphale, being an angel, will not take advantage of it. Like, at all. Hum.


	22. Laced Drink (Part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm cheating ! But there was so much more to say on the truth serum part ! And Hallucination is already set up in my head... so I had to transform today's chapter in a "part two".
> 
> Mention of chapter 11 "stitches" with the parchments Aziraphale smuggled out of Alexandria's librairy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still, this story is for megzeattle and her wonderful idea !!

That morning in the bookshop was only slightly different from every other : there was a demon on the couch, sleeping deeply (Aziraphale had told him there was a bed in the loft, but Crowley had dismissed the idea with a wave) and a wide awake angel was in the same room.

The similarities stopped there. Usually, Aziraphale would read, or enjoy a cup of something sweet, probably both at the same time. Today, he was pacing the room, careful to muffle his steps so he wouldn’t wake his friend. From time to time he just stopped and looked at the sleeping demon with a frown.

“Ssstop fretting Ziraphaaale...” mumbled sleepily Crowley, not moving an inch. “Can _hear_ you freaking out...”

“So sorry, dear… I really don’t like all this truth potion business”

“Ssserum… t’s called serum, ‘ngel… ss’fine… m’fine… swear.”

“Are you feeling unwell ? Do you have trouble thinking ? Crowley ?” The angel rapidly got to the couch and reached to grab his friend’s shoulder anxiously.

“Oh, for Manchester ! M’fine, angel ! Just… sleepy. M’always sleepy at this hour. Stop fretting, you’re worrying me...”

“Oh, apologies. I’ll… I’ll just be in the bookshop.”

Crowley let out a frustrated huff and sat up, yawning widely.

“… Coffee...”

“My dear, it is only seven o’clock !”

“S’l’right. Coffee. M’up. M’wake.”

Aziraphale seemed to decipher that strange sentence and got to the kitchen. Crowley yawned again. He grabbed the steaming mug handed to him like a lifeline and buried his nose into as if he intended to inhale the caffeine.

“Are you still under the effects of it, my dear ?”

“Mmm… dunno.”

Aziraphale thought.

“Did you steal the holly grail, Crowley ?”

“Totally._ Shit_ !”

Aziraphale shook his head with a sigh.

“I knew it. It could only have been you… Crowley… do you know how many years poor Arthur wasted searching for it ?”

Crowley smiled. “A. LOT.”

The angel chuckled. It was quite impossible to be mad. Even if he’d wanted it, which he didn’t.

“Well, you could at least have told me.”

“Come on angel, you already knew, more or less. Didn’t want you to have to lie Upstairs. Better for you not to be _sure_. And humans would have messed up with it.”

“They certainly did.”

“For the last time, Aziraphale : Indiana Jones is not a real story !”

“I’m only saying they had _all_ the effects quite right. The healing, the eternal life… I guess that poor boy didn’t know he doomed his father with immortality when he made him drink in it… It’s rather strange that everything about this film is completely aberrant, but the one and only object none of the writers could have seen for real was spot on...”

The angel raised an eyebrow. Crowley sighed in defeat.

“Okay, I _may_ have had a hand in the scenario. Only a little. For fun, you know.”

“Yes. Only on the grail part of the scenario, then ? Not one other tiny detail ? Hmm ?”

“Alright. The girl being a nazi spy was totally based on your friend Rose Montgomery.”

“She wasn’t my friend !” Huffed Aziraphale, crossing his arms in defence.

“But you didn’t know that at the time, and that’s hilarious !”

“You’re so annoying. I don’t even know why I am putting up with you.”

“Liar, you _adore_ me. We’re family.”

The angel’s eyes widened.

“What did you just say ?”

Crowley blushed furiously.

“Said we were family. Happy ?”

“I never thought about it that way” murmured the angel thoughtfully. “But… that make sense. We are like a family, aren’t we ? We are even living together.” He seemed to ponder for a moment, and Crowley eyed him with a hint of anxiety.

“I like it.” Finally declared the angel.

“Really ? I’m a demon, y’a know. You’re an angel. Not really the same.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly, a faraway look on his face.

“I always envied humans on that. The capacity to call someone family, to call somewhere home. Not like we ever had that, either of us.”

“Well… we do now, right ? You’ve always been my family, angel.” Crowley blushed again. Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Alright. This isn’t fair. You should either shut up or have a right to honesty yourself.”

Crowley looked at him in confusion.

“Whot ?”

“I’ll answer the truth too. Seems only fair, after all.”

The demon blinked. Then blinked again. Then a wide, _wide_ smile spread slowly on his face.

“Any question ? You’ll answer any question I ask ?”

Aziraphale gulped, but bravely nodded. “Yes”

Crowley attacked immediately

“What happened exactly with Jane Austen ?”

Aziraphale coughed. “Wh… What ? Why is that the first thing you want to know ?”

“I really, really want to know what happened with Jane. How in Heaven did you happen to get _engaged_ to the girl, angel ? Come on, tell me ! Wanna know ! Did you guys _kissed_ ?”

The angel spluttered and stood up in indignation.

“Of course not ! It would have been highly inappropriate !”

“Not for an engaged couple. Not really, I mean. Lots of people were doing far worse once engaged.”

Aziraphale wailed in despair. “I am so not ready for this without a tea.”

Crowley jumped on his feet, completely awake.

“I’ll make some. Don’t move. And prepare your story, I want a full confession. Even the _hand touching_ !”

“Oh, dear. This is going to be a long day.”

The demon was back so fast Aziraphale started when his winged mug was handed to him. He took a sip gingerly.

“Sooooooo… engaged to dear Jane ?”

“Alright. So it was in Bath, and she was… not fine. We talked a lot at soirées and such...”

“Yeah, right, cause it was so easy to _talk_ with an unmarried lady at the time.”

“I might have used some discreet miracles. She was such a brilliant young woman, Crowley. I didn’t want to let conventions preventing me from talking with one of the greatest humans I ever met !”

“I know she was smart. I’ve read her books. So, why ? Why getting engaged just to dump her later ?”

“First of all, I didn’t _dump_ her. Second… it was for fun. We may have been a little tipsy.

Crowley stared. “What ?”

“Well, we were talking a lot, and she told me she’d never get married, and I told her I wouldn’t either, and that I just regretted not knowing how a proposal felt, because it looked so _romantic_. So she came with the idea.”

“You pretended to be engaged ? To know how it felt ?”

“Yes, I believe it was a little like that. I wanted to experiment, and she needed to forget her previous engagement. We both thought it a good idea at the time. Of course I wiped all of her relation’s memory of it.”

“Wow, slow down, angel ! She couldn’t know you would do that. Breaking an engagement would have been bad for her, specially for the second time !”

Aziraphale looked away, sipping his tea. Crowley gasped.

“You TOLD Jane Austen you were an ANGEL ?”

“… I may have. She more or less guessed it right at the beginning. She really _was_ clever. She thought it was hilarious, being the only human ever engaged to be married to an angel. It made her laugh a lot.”

Crowley pondered that a minute. This was crazy. And dangerous. If Heaven had ever found out about it…

“You were in love with her or something ?” He asked way too casually.

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. We were good friends.”

Crowley nodded, quite relieved. He didn’t like the idea of Aziraphale _in love_ with a human. Or anyone, to be honest. It would be disgusting.

“Well… who knew ? Besides you two ?”

“Nobody. Until that night in Cairo when you got me so drunk I told you.”

“Hey ! I didn’t got you drunk. I got both of us drunk !”

Aziraphale huffed.

“Are we done with that, now ?”

“Yep, curiosity satisfied on that point. Now… Oscar Wilde...”

“Oh no ! Not two in a row, my dear fellow ! It’s my turn to ask a question !”

“Oh, okay… what do you want to know ?”

“Well, first of all, is my hair green ? Try to lie.”

“No. T’s white.”

“Blond. But alright, still under the truth potion (“serum”, scoffed Crowley). So…”

Aziraphale pondered. What question exactly was the most pressing ? It wasn’t like he didn’t know almost everything important about his friend already. Suddenly something came back to him. The parchments, the ones he’d saved from Alexandria, kept religiously all these centuries, and that finally got stolen by what he thought were humans at the time. He learned only some weeks ago that Crowley had them in his possession and didn’t told him. This was something he didn’t understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d got the crate of parchments ?”

Crowley grimaced. He hadn’t thought of that one.

“I… I was angry about the Holy water. Didn’t want to give it to you when you wouldn’t help me. We just started speaking again, or I would have used it to make peace, but...”

“But the blitz was some years before that.”

“Yup. So I just. Didn’t say a thing. And kept it secure ‘till the day you’ll help. You know. To thank you.”

“But you didn’t. When I gave you the water, you didn’t say a thing.”

Crowley shuffled uneasily.

“Realised I was lame. You seemed so sad, thinking like a stupid angel that I was going to use it on me or something. Like I’ll ever leave you alone. Stupid. It seemed petty of me to have done that. And you were sad, and I just couldn’t tell you then, it wasn’t right. And after that I was just feeling guilty, and it had been so long ago I wasn’t sure you would forgive me for keeping it a secret.”

“Oh… I see… that… that’s the kind of thing you would do.”

Crowley looked at him for a few minutes. The angel was smiling softly, lost in thoughts.

“Not mad at me ?” Asked the demon tentatively.

Aziraphale smiled.

“You saved them, Crowley. While resenting me still. Of course I’m not mad. I’d like to see them again, though. Someday. No hurry.”

“Was gonna give it to you for Christmas” mumbled the demon.

“I guessed so. That’s very sweet of you.”

“M’not _sweet._ Ugh, disgusting ! Sweet, really. I hate that word ! Well… can I go on with my next question now ?”

Aziraphale grinned.

“I don’t think so, Crowley. Game’s over. You just lied.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Jane Austen. Does it shows ? ;)


	23. Hallucination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is ! He is back !  
We finally learn what happened to Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, punishing Gabriel is always such a treat...

Aziraphale’s neighbours were used to see strange things happening in their street. A bentley roaming the area at an impossible speed, strange, ominous men entering the bookshop and never getting out, a red haired, lanky and strangely fascinating man coming and going at all hours, parking his car (the aforementioned Bentley) in parking places that didn’t exist one minute sooner…

Some of them even saw the bookshop burn, for God’s sake, and the next day there it was, right as rain !

So when a very, very strange man in what seemed like a very expensive suit but was now tattered rags knocked heavily at the shop’s door, no one raised an eyebrow.

After five minutes of loud banging, the door finally opened. Aziraphale_ did _raise an eyebrow. His demonic roomate was standing behind him, watching with interest.

“Gabriel...” The angel’s voice was surprised. And a little amused, judged Crowley. Well, that was understandable. The archangel looked like _shit_. This felt so_ good…_

“Aziraphale, you have to help me ! Humans are crazy, there is no logic in their behaviour ! They smile and then they don’t even help you ! Smiling and not caring is lying !! It’s a sin !”

Crowley laughed joylessly. Aziraphale squinted his eyes. “Yes. It is.”

“Exactly ! So, _you _have to help me, tell me what to do to make it stop !”

“Make… What stop, exactly ?”

“This… these things behind me ! They seem dangerous, and I don’t have my Grace ! I can’t fight them !”

Aziraphale leaned to look on the street and made a show on looking in every direction.

“I do not see a thing. What is after you, specifically ?”

“I don’t know ! I can’t see them ! But they’re everywhere, and they want to eat me !”

“Oh, dear. Your pupils are very dilated, Gabriel. I think you may have ingested an illegal substance.”

This was the best day of Crowley’s life. He was really disappointed to think they didn’t have any popcorn. He sauntered to the door and rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder to look at the former Archangel. Aziraphale didn’t blink. Gabriel’s lips pursued in disgust, which was exactly what Crowley had been aiming for. It was very funny to watch.

“Please, Gabe. Please, make my day. Tell me She asked you to stay on earth.”

Gabriel whimpered, shivering. “She did ! I have to stay here for five years, without using any Grace ! It’s impossible !”

“_Five_ !” Erupted Crowley, while Aziraphale turned away to hide a delighted grin. “Five years ? Oh, angel, did you hear that ? _FIVE_ years ! Isn’t it four more than last time she punished an Archangel ?”

“Why, I believe it is, my dear. So, what is your penance, Gabriel ? Building the walls of Trojan is a little outdated here...”

“I have to… work. I have to work for humans. In the park. Collect the disgusting things they throw on the floor.”

“You’re picking up garbage ! Oh, this is the best ! I can die happy, angel. Which park is it, Gabe ? I’ll come cheer you up _every_ day.”

“I can’t go back to the park, the trees wants to kill me ! Do something, Aziraphale, you have Grace ! Smite them !”

Aziraphale sighed.

“No one wants to hurt you, Gabriel.”

“Speak for yourself” mumbled Crowley.

“You have only ingested something causing hallucination. Did some human give you something to eat ?”

“No. They didn’t want to ! This corporation had to sustain itself and humans didn’t want to help when I told them they_ had _to give me food. But I found some in the park. It was not good, but it was food.”

Aziraphale made a disgusted noise.

“You ate food that had been _thrown away_ ?”

“No, it grew on the ground. Humans are doing it, you know. Eating things that grow on the ground.”

“Thank you for that useful information. What did it look like ?”

“Like that thing called… umbrella ? But very small.”

Crowley had to go away to sit down on a chair. His friend eyed him a little worriedly. He wasn’t sure if you could discorporate from laughters.

“Mushrooms ! Oh, _flames_ ! He ate freakin’ mushrooms !”

“Well, you are experiencing sickness, Gabriel. That will be useful in understanding humanity. I am afraid I have work to do, so I will wish you a good day now...”

“No, you can’t leave me like that ! Help me ! At least perform a miracle to stop it !”

Aziraphale tilted his head.

“If I remember correctly, helping humans when they are experiencing the sad effects of drugs is considered a waste of miracles. Frivolous was the exact term in the note you send me. You said desperate humans should _pray, _not find refuge in artificial paradise_.”_

“Yes but… that’s different.”

“I don’t see any difference. You still can pray. And God wants you to experience human life without any of your powers. Miraculing you would be counter-productive.”

“This corporation will not survive ! I don’t know how to make it function !”

“Then they’ll give you another one and send you back. You know how it works, don’t you ? You will have a new one until you learn to care for it correctly. Good luck with your community service. Pip pip !”

The door closed in front of Gabriel’s face. He tried the handle. It didn’t move one bit.

Crowley, still hunched on his chair, was watching Aziraphale in awe.

“Wow, angel. That was cold. You really know how to hold a grudge, he ? Not criticizing, it’s great. Just didn’t know you had it in you, ‘at’s all.”

“Gabriel will learn to take matters in hand” (Crowley chuckled, for some reason) “I will not help him. He needs to learn compassion, and suffering will help. It is for his own good, after all.”

“Oh, angel. You are so ruthless… do you think the others are there too ?”

“I hope so. They all agreed to give Hell Holy water to destroy you, after all.”

Crowley looked Up. “Wait. Who will manage Heaven, then ?”

“There is still another Archangel. I assume she will do it.”

Crowley walked to the window to wave at Gabriel’s back.

“You think he will discorporate ?”

“I really hope not. It would be frightening for human witness. The mushrooms won’t kill him, I checked. And he has a job, after all. He will be fine.”

“Good. I want to go to the park, tomorrow. Found something to watch even more interesting than ducks.”

“I am not sure it would be very angelic of me to make fun of my former boss, Crowley” answered the angel with regret.

“Lunch at the Ritz, then ?”

Aziraphale beamed.

“What a wonderful idea ! We haven’t been there since Adam’s last stay !”

“Good, Ritz tomorrow. I’ll make reservations.”

The angel raised a sceptic eyebrow.

“I will if I think about it. We should walk after, of course. For digestion. And fresh air is excellent for health. We could take a stroll in Green Park.”

“Crowley, why would we go to Green Park ? We are always feeding the ducks in… oh. Oh. Well, a change of scenery _would_ be lovely. Green park, hmm ? How did you know ?”

“Downloaded his schedule with a small demonic miracle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's prompt is "Bleeding Out"  
This is a veeeery interesting prompt !  
I think I'll go for some angst on this one...  
Just a little bit...


	24. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ducks in St James Park knows a lot of things about a lot of people. Especially a certain angel and his demonic friend.  
But one day, the demon doesn't come to their weekly meeting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUCKS !
> 
> Warning : Trigger for hit by car. (happy ending guaranteed, as always).

St James Park always had been a favourite for spies and secret meetings. The ducks there knew every little secrets of most nations, and even some of the greatest information of all times : Heaven and Hell existed. They came here every Saturday.

It was a Saturday, and the ducks were starting to fret. The angel was alone, and he frowned, looking at his phone.

The Russian attaché seemed startled when his delicious bred stayed untouched, the colony of ducks quacking furiously a few feet away, seeming to look at a lonely man in an outdated ivory costume sitting on a bench.

Something was_ wrong_. The demon was never that late. He always arrived a few minutes after the exact time, of course, but never more. The ducks watched anxiously as the angel dialled his friend's number for the third time. Voicemail again, apparently. The angel seemed really worried now, and he got up and started pacing.

This was not a good day for the water birds of St James Park. The two entities had cared for them and protected their home for hundreds of years. Never had one of them starved, never had a duckling be lost. They were blessed, and they knew it. They always ate all of these two's bread, even if it wasn't the best, and made a great show of doing it, if only to see the angel smile at the sight.

The duck community was extremely concerned by this unusual development, and forgot all Important Things. Which is why it all happened.

The duckling was not a baby any more (or so it thought) and it wanted to discover the world. It'd already tried to get out of the park, but it's mother was way too careful. Now, nobody was looking, and the world opened his arms.

Duckling ran as fast as it could towards the grate and finally was on the Pavement. This was great. It had just put foot where no other duck ever did ! Happily, he waddled towards the other side of the street.

Everything happened very fast. First, a vintage Bentley turned the corner at a demonic speed, aiming straight at the poor animal. The driver was trying to will his phone back to life and only saw the bird at the last second. Crowley mentally blessed, trying to work a miracle fast enough to...

In the blink of an eye, the duck disappeared in front of the car's hood. In his place was now a very familiar figure.

_This is even worse than the duck_, was the only thought that had enough time to cross the demon's mind before his beloved car hit his best friend at full speed.

Stopping time was not an easy trick, but he did it without even thinking. The car froze, and the only movements were that of the angel, who fell to the road with a sickening thud, and of the demon that all but jumped out of the car to kneel at his friend's side.

“What did you do, you stupid idiot !”

Aziraphale seemed unconscious. His arms were folded around something. Crowley reached to see what it was. _Of course _it was the duck. The bloody animal quacked and ran back into the park like Hell was after it (It was).

“I’ll remember you, you jackass !” Yelled Crowley angrily, still trying to ascertain the angel’s injuries. Angels could not be frozen and he wished it was the case, because Aziraphale’s head was bleeding out at an alarming speed.

“I’m not a good healer, angel !” moaned the demon with dread.

He focused all he could think of in the palm of his hands and pressed them on the angel injury. He knew he was trembling, but just couldn’t stop, no matter how uncool it looked. Anyway, nobody could see them. Aziraphale suddenly gasped, trying to pull out.

“Don’t move, you imbecile !” Snapped the demon in relief. The angel was alive, thank G… Someone ! He tried to put his hands back, but Aziraphale’s face was already scrunching as he concentrated on healing himself. The wounds slowly started to disappear and Crowley closed his eyes.

“Oh, dear. I hope the poor animal is not traumatised”

Aziraphale sat slowly. It took three tries before he could achieve it. Crowley didn’t move, eyes still closed.

“Crowley, dear ? Are you all right ?”

Yellow eyes snapped open.

“Am I all right ? Well, I don’t know, angel, am I ? AM I ?”

“I’ll say not. You do not seem to be. I understand you might be a little upset, but I am sure a good miracle will have your dear car good as new in a jiffy.”

“My car, eh ? Angel… do you really think I give a_ shit _about my car ?”

Aziraphale gasped and looked worriedly at the hood.

“Crowley ! She’ll hear you !”

The demon didn’t seem to understand what his friend was saying. He buried his head in his knees and squeeze them tight with his arms to stop that bloody trembling.

“Crowley ? Crowley, what is…” Aziraphale’s voice faltered, and the demon suddenly felt a hand on the back of his head, and the angel’s soothing energy just on the tip of his fingers, waiting for permission to enter and fight the fear that had just invaded him in after-effect.

“Oh, dear. I am ever so sorry. I know it was silly of me, of course, but I didn’t have time enough for anything else than appearing. And even if I had, you know how difficult it is to miracle a duck. Everything slides off them… I couldn’t let the poor creature get killed.”

Crowley allowed the comforting Grace to settle in his mind, too tired to argue. He let go of the time loop. Humans and vehicles came back to life, no one sparing a glance at the weird men sitting on the pavement.

“Come on, my dear. We have to move. Do you want to sit in the park ?”

Crowley shook his head feebly.

“Don’t want to sit in the park, angel. I want to go home and drink a bottle of whisky and then KILL YOU.”

“Well, no need to be dramatic about it. I am fine, after all.”

“I hit you with my car...” moaned the demon, trying to get up.

“No, dear, I did the hitting.”

“Why did you do that, angel ? T’was so _ssstupid_ ! You could have discorporated !”

“I know. I really am sorry. But it was a duck, Crowley. I couldn’t let you kill a duck ! You would have been devastated !”

Crowley looked like he was about to hit the angel for a second. He took a deep breath before answering.

“More devastated than if I’d killed _YOU_, you mean ?”

“Well, I would only have been discorporated. Now that Gabriel has been punished, I guess my status Up There is no more persona non grata. They would probably give me a new corporation without any paperwork, just to get rid of me.”

Crowley pondered that. That made sense. God herself had just punished _Archangels_ for trying to kill Aziraphale. He was probably considered sacrosanct Up There for the time being.

“Oh. Didn’t think of that. Makes sense.”

He took a few steps towards the park and turned in confusion when the angel didn’t follow. His friend looked at him sternly, arms crossed.

“What ?”

“Are you sure you are not forgetting something, Crowley ?” He flicked his eyes rapidly towards the car. Crowley’s eyes widened. _Oh_. He was such a _monster_ ! He all but ran back to the Bentley.

“Oh, Love, I’m so sorry ! I didn’t think it, not for one second. Of course I give a shit about you, Baby ! It’s that stupid angel, he makes me say stupid things with his stupid actions !”

“Yes, yes, I get it. I am stupid. Now fix the poor girl and let’s go to the restaurant. I am starving, my dear.”

Crowley wasn’t listening, crooning to his car like they were alone in the world. Aziraphale smiled fondly.

In the park, Duckling was receiving the scolding of its life. Every adult duck looked at it with reproach. Every duckling looked at it in awe. It had been Saved by the Guardian of the Park.

This was the _best_ day of its life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next prompt is "Secret Injury"  
I have NO IDEA where this will lead me :D


	25. Secret Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is hidding something from his friend. Something Important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Angst again ! Sorry about that ^^

Four days. It only took four days for Aziraphale to notice anything. Crowley was hopping for longer, a year or maybe a millennia would have been cool, but deep down he perfectly knew I couldn’t hide it for very long. Every day it felt worse. He didn’t dare sleep any more, in fear of feeling “it” gone completely upon waking up.

So he pretended. He’d always slept a few hours each day, and couldn’t just stop, right ? Not if he wanted to stay inconspicuous. He just slouched on his couch, closed his eyes, and tried not to think for a while (with no effect). Three or four times a day, when the angel was in another room, he would try to _make_ one. A little one. The results were pathetic.

On the fourth day, there wasn’t even the slightest reaction. It was really gone this time. Crowley thought he would be crushed by it, but he didn’t felt much. Well. It was over, as he knew it would be. It was kind of a relief in a way. He didn’t have to wait for it to happen any more.

That’s when Aziraphale started to ask questions. It was morning, and Crowley had just be handed his first coffee by his friend (he needed a lot of coffee after his third sleepless night) and was looking at the fire blazing in the grate (the only place where fire was acceptable to him, carefully protected with multiple devilish charms. How ironic it was to see them here all day, beautifully crafted in the stone).

“Crowley, is everything alright ? You seem… quiet.”

“hmm ? Oh, yes. Yes, m’fine.”

“You look quite unwell. Unsettled. Is anything the matter ?”

“Told you I’m okay, angel, let it go.”

Aziraphale sipped his tea, watching his friend from the corner of his eyes. Crowley tasted his coffee. Made a face. Put it down on the table.

“Oh, is it not to your taste, my dear ? A little too cold maybe, I am so sorry, I was caught up upstairs and took a while to bring it to you.”

“Nah. T’s fine.” The demon hastily grabbed his mug back and took another sip before smiling. “T’s perfect.”

Aziraphale closed his book with a snap that had the demon startle.

“No, it is not. It is _very_ cold, I made sure of it. Crowley… have you lost your powers ?”

The coffee fell on the floor.

The angel didn’t blink, staring intensely at his friend. Crowley looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“So ? Have you ?”

“How… how did you know ? I was _cautious_ !”

“Oh, _please _! Six thousands years, Crowley ! I _knew_ something was wrong. I _watched_ you ! How on earth is it possible ? What happened ?”

The demon looked at the broken mug. Aziraphale vanished it and put his tea down.

“Tell me everything. We will fix it.”

But Crowley shook his head.

“You can’t fix that, angel. I’ve been cut of. I know it since the other day. They warned me through the bentley’s radio. No more demonic energy for me.”

“_WHAT_ ? This is ridiculous ! Why would they _do_ that ? Cutting your link with Hell must require a furious amount of _constant_ evil power ! It would drain out so much more than leaving you free access to it !”

“I know that, Aziraphale. It’s to punish me. They want to make a point. Took them a while to find a way. I should be glad I had it for so long.”

“When exactly ? What other day ? When was that ?”

“Duck day. T’s why I was late. Really was worried I couldn’t heal you back then. Thank someone I still had enough of it in me.”

“Oh... Oh, my poor fellow. I am so sorry, you would have some miracles left if I hadn’t...”

Crowley cut it with a wave.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m glad I still had it at the time. But… try not to get a mortal injury from now on, that’s all.”

The angel looked at him in concern. Crowley hated to bring that expression on his friend’s face.

“Not the end of the world, angel. I’m still immortal. Nothing’s really changed.”

They both knew it was a lie. The connection between a demon and his source of power was as important as that of an angel with Heaven. It had an impact on their essence. It influenced their personalities a little. And it hurt not to have it, like a dull ache in your chest, never subsiding.

Aziraphale set his jaw firmly.

“We will find a way. I will help you get it back, don’t you worry.”

“There’s no way, angel. T’s okay. You can’t do a thing.”

“But I...” the demon raised his hand, cutting him short.

“Please, Aziraphale. I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was something pleading in the yellow eyes. Aziraphale surrendered.

“As you wish, my dear. If it helps.”

“It does. Now, don’t think I brood, but I really need to catch some sleep. M’exhausted. Don’t fret, okay ? I’m _fine_.”

Aziraphale sighed lightly and nodded. Crowley buried himself under a blanket and fell asleep almost instantly.

The angel waited some time, to be sure his friend was dead to the world, and used a miracle to put him under heavy sleep for hours. He felt a little guilty, using his Grace to trick the demon that couldn’t do that kind of things any more, but he’d be_ damned _if he didn’t try everything in his power to fix this !

The only solution was to have an idea of what was happening in Hell. How to stop all this. He needed an inside man. He needed informations. He needed insight.

His face as stony as his heart felt, he got up to pick “The Invocation of Demons and the Use of Bounding Deals”

Time to call a certain Duke of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the Angst, guys ! Really, I am ! I promised happy ending for every chapter but this one is not exactly like that... Next chapter will be the sequel, and it's already half written, so it will be out today too !


	26. Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wants Crowley to have his powers back. He would do almost anything to help him. You know what ? You can cross the "almost".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise to my boys for that one. I don't know if I should apologise more to Crowley or Aziraphale ^^

Crowley woke up feeling particularly refreshed. He was handed a cup of coffee (black, two sugars, and perfectly heated) by a smiling angel.

Something was off in that smile, but giving their last conversation, this wasn’t a surprise. He didn’t want to talk about his loss of powers, and apparently the angel had decided to drop the subject entirely, which was very nice of him.

Crowley would literally bang his own head against a wall for that later. Thinking that Aziraphale would let it go that easily. Really ? But it fitted nicely with his desires at the moment, so he didn’t take the time to ponder. Didn’t try to picture himself in the angel’s place. Had he done it, he would have guess something was very wrong, for he would NEVER let his angel lose his Grace without moving Heaven and Earth and Hell until he found the culprit and END its miserable existence.

Well, he didn’t, though, and a few weeks passed without much of a change. Aziraphale was acting perfectly normal (another clue. How could the angel _feel_ normal after such a discovery ?) and Crowley was trying his best to adjust. Every Friday night, the angel got out to “patrol” and only came back hours later. Crowley, not wanting to think of the miracles his friend was probably performing, tried his best not to think about it and occupied himself with music, books or television.

The fourth week, he felt something odd. The ache in his essence seemed to falter for a few seconds. He caught his breath, trying to feel a change, but couldn’t really sense one. Hope was a bitch, and he shouldn’t count on it. He dismissed the feeling entirely.

The following day, when he woke up, the pain had definitely decreased. It was almost gone, there was no doubt about it now. He tried not to feel happy about it. It would come back, he was certain of it. He didn’t dare try a demonic miracle. It would be too hard to see it work, then lose it again.

He didn’t talk about it to Aziraphale.

The next day was a Friday. Aziraphale donned his overcoat, looking a little strangely at his friend.

“Will you be all right, my dear ?”

“Well, yeah, of course. M’not a child, you know ?”

“Yes, sorry about that. So… you feel… fine ?”

“Perfectly normal, angel. Don’t fret.”

Aziraphale looked slightly disappointed, but smiled sweetly.

“Good then, see you later, my dear.”

“Yep. Mind where you go.”

The angel got out, and Crowley fiddled with his glasses. He felt… uneasy. Something was _wrong_. Something in the _air_.

He brusquely got up, ignoring the clatter of his glasses on the floor. Something dreadful was invading him. An awful thought.

This sensation. It was… _Hastur._

He could feel it, taste it in the air. Hastur’s demonic aura. Right here, right next to the door, near the...

An icy cold invaded him.

The _closet._ Where Aziraphale kept his overcoat. It reeked of Hastur’s… presence. How ? _HOW _did this freaking overcoat got that much demonic smell ?

He knew how. It was too strong to be a passing encounter. Hastur had spent _time_ with the angel. _Hours._

Friday night out to patrol indeed.

It was… betrayal. The worst of all. So now he wasn’t a_ real _demon any more, the angel was bonding with an _actual _one ? Did he need demonic power to counterbalance his Grace that much ? Did he thought Crowley useless now, but was too _FUCKING NICE_ to tell him to _fuck off_ and get out of his bookshop, his life, and his town ?

Crowley would drink himself senseless later for thinking that kind of shit of his angel, but in the time being, he was way too angry and terrified for a rational thought to cross his mind.

He was humiliated. THAT was the worst thing that could ever happen to a demon. Humiliation was loss of status, and for the _angel_ to betray him like that ? To act like everything was fine, to lie to him for weeks while he chose to “fraternise” with not only another demon, but his worst enemy ?

It was NOT to be borne.

He got out in a run, and followed Aziraphale’s Grace.

The angel was not far away. As was the Duke of Hell. Crowley hid his presence without thinking about it, without even asking himself _how_ he could do it or why his power was still there, right as rain, as it had been all day long. He turned into the tiniest snake he could possibly fit into, and approached the pair. There were having _drinks._ The angel was drinking _without him_. With _another_ demon. He heard their voices.

* * *

“No, he hasn’t, Hastur. He would have told me. You must have done it _wrong_ !”

Hastur snarled and gulped down his drink. Aziraphale hadn’t touched his. He was staring at the demon with fury. Hastur found him _beautiful._

“I did. I’ve done it exactly how you told me. It changed colours, like you said it would. He is connected ! I know he is ! He has to !”

Aziraphale got up abruptly, his chair screeching loudly. Everyone in the pub stopped talking and looked at him.

“You are _lying_ to me !” he yelled.

Hastur got up in turn.

“I’m not ! I want Crowley to be back to normal as much as you did, angel, you know that !”

“Don’t call me _that_. You’ve lost the right to call me that, you liar ! You breached the contract !”

“Did NOT ! See ! Still got the bloody seal !”

The demon rolled up his sleeve and showed a black marking on his forearm. Aziraphale deflated.

“I… don’t understand. How… how could it not… it _had_ to work” his voice was desperate, imploring.

“bites me. I did it right. Should have get it back by now.” the demon raised his hands upwards. “He should be healed. I don’t understand. And you _owe_ me my reward.”

* * *

Crowley’s thoughts and feelings were spinning like crazy. First, there was relief. A deep, overwhelming relief. And shame. Such a terrible shame. Of course Aziraphale was trying everything he could think of to cure him. How in Heaven could he have thought otherwise ? HOW ?

Then there was _another _feeling. A burning, violent, bestial feeling. Hastur would _BURN_ for this. Whatever this fucking contract was, whatever he did to Aziraphale, and whatever he still wanted from him, once all this was over, Crowley would hunt him down and _END_ him.

Aziraphale was talking again, and his friend focused on his voice.

“I will certainly not do it ! The contract was clear. You had to help me until Crowley got his powers back. He did not. No reward for you.”

“Are you stupid, angel ? The time is running out. You know the price if you don’t honour your part.”

“There is still one week. And you didn’t honour yours.”

Crowley hissed. Time to interfere, and quick.

He transformed back, miracled the last minutes out of the rest of the pub’s memories, and sat on an empty chair.

Aziraphale looked at him with wide eyes, stunned and afraid. He wanted to smile to reassure him, but couldn’t summon the tiniest grimace. Violence was everywhere in him, and he was gripping all the self control he had left with metaphoric teeth and claws to NOT jump at Hastur’s throat right away. He managed to speak, although it was in a low, threatening growl.

“I’ve got them back. What’s the deal ?”

Hastur looked scared, which was strange. He never had feared Crowley before. But he smiled and looked at the angel in happy anticipation.

“See ? See ? He’s got them ! I told you ! I helped you !”

Aziraphale looked incredulous.

“You do ? Really ?”

Crowley snapped his fingers and made the angel’s glass explode sending wine everywhere. Not exactly what he was aiming for. Maybe he was a little unstable at the moment. Aziraphale didn’t seem to care about his ruined waistcoat. He _beamed_, and his obvious relief made Crowley want to cry. How could he have doubted ? What did the angel promised ? It could be _anything_.

“You owe me !” Reminded Hastur urgently.

Aziraphale nodded, his eyes not leaving Crowley.

“I do. But not here. The park.”

Crowley snapped his fingers again and the three of them were in the middle of St Jame’s one second later. Crowley didn’t care about obvious miracles any more. He wanted all this to be over. The ducks quacked in greetings, then decided to get away from this precise spot as fast as they could. Ducks are very keen on sensing troubles.

“What’s the deal, angel ?” Asked Crowley again.

Without a word, Aziraphale extended his hand towards Hastur. Crowley growled, but didn’t move. Whatever the contract, it had to be honoured or Aziraphale would be destroyed. Or worse.

Hastur fumbled in the inner pocket of his mackintosh and brandished a long knife. _Aziraphale’s_ knife. Sharp as Hell, and probably as deadly. Crowley dug his nails so deeply in the palm of his hands that dark blood started to flow out.

Aziraphale took the knife. Then turned on the most frightening avenging mode Crowley had ever seen. And he had seen his fare share of smiting Aziraphale over the centuries. This was berserk level. The angel attacked with a roar. Hastur didn’t even try to protect himself.

Crowley stared in disbelief. Yells of pure rage and cries of pain were mingling in the (miraculously) desert park. Blood was raining, and the knife… oh the knife was slicing like crazy. It was sickening to watch, and Crowley was a _demon._

On a final slice, Hastur discorporated. Crowley let out a relieved breath. Then turned gingerly to his friend.

“What. Was _that_ ?”

Aziraphale seemed disgusted. His hand trembled. It didn’t one second before.

“My part of the contract. Smite him as painfully as possible.”

“Why ? Why would...” Crowley suddenly shut up. Oh yeah. It was ridiculous of him to even ask. Hastur was addicted to violence and pain. Everyone in Hell was aware of that. Of course loving pain and violence was a _good_ thing back Down. But even by Hell’s standards, Hastur was a freak. Probably was happy as a clam, back in Hell and more obsessed than ever. What a comforting thought.

“Angel...”

“I am sorry, Crowley. I _had _to lie to you. You would never have let me contact him.”

“Hell no ! Course I wouldn’t ! Are you out of your mind ? A _contract_, angel ? With a_ Duke of Hell_ ? You know contracts are dangerous ! He could have had your _soul_ !”

“I know he wouldn’t have played me. I called him for a reason. His little interest was in my favour.”

_There’s nothing little about his freakin’ obsession_, wanted to yell Crowley.

“Angel, a contract ! You signed a contract !”

“I know. I had to. I offered whatever he wanted and he found the spell that bound your link to demonic energy. Then after a little research I found a way to break the seal and Hastur followed my instruction. They will not try it again. They will think you did it yourself. I hope it will appear to them that you are even more powerful than they thought now. After the Holy water, breaking that kind of seal from afar should be enough of a feat to scare them and leave you alone.”

Crowley didn’t really listen to his friend’s rambling. He couldn’t care less.

“What did he ask in exchange ? Except being cut to pieces with a very sharp tool none of us will ever be able to look at ?”

Aziraphale looked sheepish.

“Oh. Well. He asked for dates. One per week. To drink together. That was fine, since he could tell me his progress.”

Crowley bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying something he would regret, like _“How was it ? Nice ? Did you have fun ?”_

“Nothing else ?”

“Well, the right to call me “angel”, like you do. And hand holding.”

“WHAT ? _Hand holding_ ? Why ?”

“I have no idea. I guess he finds it romantic.”

“But you _hate_ when people touch you, Aziraphale ! Hand holding ! That’s just gross !”

“Well, the poor boy deserved it. He was very efficient. Quite reliable for a demon.”

Crowley shot him a glare.

“I am not including you in average demons, and you know it.”

“But **angel** !”

Before Crowley could rant and yell, Aziraphale raised a hand.

“I will listen to everything you have to say if you answer one single question. Had I lost my Grace, what would you have been ready to do to help me get it back ?”

Crowley didn’t answer, only trying to glare again with little success.

“You see ? Now why don’t we just go home ?”

“He will be more obsessed with you than ever, you know that ? He probably thinks he’s your boyfriend or something now. Probably organising the bloody marriage ceremony.”

“No risk for that, do not fear, my dear. I told him every deal related to the contract would end with it. Dates, hands holding and nicknames included.”

“And he signed for _that _?”

“He really, _really_ wanted me to discorporate him, Crowley.”

“Shut up, that’s disgusting.”

“Quite so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're not angry with me for that one, guys ! I promise Aziraphale is perfectly fine. Crowley is the one who will have nightmares :)
> 
> Next prompt is "Abandoned" but really I won't go for angst on this one, the boys deserve some fluff !


	27. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you are lost and alone and without any hope, maybe an angel will hear you and come to your help...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, but I wrote it with love !

He had let her there, asking as always that she behaved and waited for him like a good girl. She was a good girl, so she waited patiently. She knew he would come back and praise her patience, and tell her she was the best in the world and that he was so proud of her.

But he didn’t come back.

At first she thought he was just taking more time than usual. It happened, she knew that. But even when he had things to do without her, he always took the time to come and see that she was all right, to explain why she couldn’t accompany him this time, to pet her and tell her she was the most extraordinary girl in the world, that he would always love and take care of her.

He was always coming back. But not this time. She waited, and waited, looking at the door. He never crossed it. The sun set, then dawn came, and he wasn’t there. She didn’t move, waiting and waiting and looking at the door all day long and when dark came again, she realised he’d left her. He was not coming back.

She understood. She’d done something awful. He said it was not her fault, he said it was an accident, but she realised now it was a lie. She didn’t want to do it, she’d rather throw herself in the Thames and drown than do _that_, but she had. She had betrayed him and she was so ashamed. She deserved to be abandoned, really. She deserved to stay here forever, to slowly die and disappear.

She was a bad girl.

Days and days had passed by. She really didn’t know how many. She didn’t count any more. She barely noticed the lights and shadows. She just stared at the door in a daze.

Then one night, he was there. He crossed the threshold, and she could have scream and cry and beg for him to forgive. But she couldn’t move. She felt rooted on spot. He didn’t even look at her and walked away. She stayed there, feeling cold and empty.

He came back hours later. He got straight through the door, looking angry and upset. He didn’t even spare her a look.

She felt so wretched she didn’t notice the angel standing near her at first. But he was there, and he smiled at her, and when he touched her delicately, telling her everything was going to be fine, she could have cried in relief. He wasn’t lying, she knew it.

He told her he would bring her father back. He told her she never did anything wrong, that it was not her fault. He told her he would be right back, and asked her to wait here and to be a good girl.

She was a good girl. She waited.

Crowley got directly to the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Stupid angel and his stupid loyalty, signing a freackin’ contract with a Duke of Hell to _save him _!

He was angry. So, so angry. He thought he had played it perfectly, staying cool, acting like everything was fine, smiling and drinking and sleeping like it didn’t matter. He’d told himself it was for Aziraphale, to reassure him, to show him he was _fine_.

But he wasn’t fine. Not at all. He hadn’t even realised that the angel was conspiring with _Hastur _! Okay, he couldn’t sense Hastur demonic touch without his powers, but still, he _knew _Aziraphale. Better than anyone else, himself included. How could he have been so fuckin’ _blind_?

Because he was a selfish bastard, wallowing in his misery. He should have guess. He ought to have guess the angel was hiding something. Yes, he’d got his powers back. Yes, Aziraphale was fine. That was not a comforting thought. He had nothing to do with this happy ending. Nothing at all.

“My dear ?”

Crowley spin on himself.

“Yeah ?”

“I need to go to East End tonight. Could you drop me there ?”

Crowley stared at the angel.

“Wh… whot ? Why ?”

“Angelic duties. I feel I am needed there.”

“But… but we just got home. And you just fought a demon. You should drink and rest.”

Aziraphale tutted.

“I didn’t fight. It was a one sided smiting. And I have to go. Someone to help. But I can take the bus, there is no need for you to...”

“BUS ? No way ! I’ll drive you !”

Aziraphale looked at the demon’s back, stomping towards the door. He smiled.

“That is very considerate of you, my dear.”

She waited patiently. She knew the angel never lied. He never lied to her, at least. Never had, and never would.

He’d told her he would bring her father back. And father came.

Crowley stopped abruptly a few meters from the Bentley. Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder.

“Did you drive at all since you lost your powers ?”

Crowley shook his head. It was too difficult. He would never have been able to drive like he loved to without his miracles. He couldn’t even look at his beloved car. He’d really thought he wouldn’t drive ever again. He remembered all too well Aziraphale laying on the street, bleeding on the pavement. He couldn't risk that to happen again.

“Crowley. I understand you were afraid of driving in these conditions. But it was very cruel of you to let your car all alone. You didn’t even get to speak to her.”

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“How do you know that ?”

“I feel despair, my dear.”

The angel turned away and crossed the street to the bookshop’s door.

“Talk to her, Crowley. I don’t feel like going out any more. I’ll pour the wine.”

Crowley was left face to hood with the Bentley.

Where to start ? He felt so ashamed of himself.

He slowly extended a hand and stroked the rooftop.

“Hey, girl. Sorry I’m late... Made you wait, eh ? I’m back now. I’ll never leave you again.”

The angel never lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor baby ! Don't leave her alone any more !


	28. Ransom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone took his angel away.  
There will be a reckoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really spooky chapter ^^

Once again, Crowley looked at the scrap of paper. He’d found it thirty minutes ago, just after his nap. But he hadn’t needed a freakin’ note to understand something was off. Nobody had handed him a cup of coffee. There was always an afternap cup of coffee when he opened his eyes. Always.

He put down the black briefcase he was holding in his left hand, and looked around. It seemed like he was in the right place for the exchange.

Desert place, far away from residential districts. No witnesses. Perfect spot for a shooting.

He smiled coldly. Two could play that game. They didn’t know what they’d gotten themselves into. The note had been the worst error they’d ever done.

He read it again. It was efficient. Concise, to the point.

‘_We’ve got the angel. You know what we want.’_

He grinned like a madman, thinking of what he was about to _do._

_ Oh, I know what you want for sure. And I know what you’ll get. _

He checked around him a second time. No one. He was early. Once again, he asked himself how they could have pulled that kind of caper. How on earth had they taken Aziraphale, and without a single noise ? That was unsettling. He knew the angel’s hidden strength, as nice and compassionate and calm as he was. How did they get him that easily ?

They had to have _forced_ him. They had some kind of leverage. That was alarming. There was not a lot of things you could threaten the angel with. He knew all of them. He had quite a good idea of what had been used against his friend.

The creak of bending wood had him turn rapidly. Oh. Here they came.

They were all acting too confidently for people who knew they were dealing with an actual demon. The leader spoke in a commanding voice.

“Do you have the payment ?”

“Do you have the angel ?”

“He’s fine. Give us the ransom.”

“No. I want a proof of life.”

The chief of the scoundrels made an offended face.

“I won’t cut one of his ears ! It’s gross !”

“What ? Course not ! Just prove me he’s alive, that’s all.”

“You will see him when we have the suitcase.”

“T’s not” Intervened the second kidnapper. “T’s a briefcase”

“What do you mean ? It’s the same !”

“No it isn’t. A briefcase is smaller.”

The third captor chimed in.

“A briefcase is more serious. It’s a briefcase. You can’t do a hostage exchange with a_ suitcase_ !”

Crowley cleared his throat.

“Hum. Guys ? ‘M waiting here.”

None of the criminals was listening to him. The fourth one had joined the conversation.

“This is ridiculous ! Of course it’s a briefcase ! My stepbrother has the same for work !”

“You can’t pay a ransom with a suitcase !”

“You totally can !”

“Well, ask Crowley then ! See what he answers, stupid !”

“Crowley won’t tell the truth ! We kidnapped Aziraphale ! Of course he would lie !”

Well. Crowley passed by the frightening foursome, leaving the ransom behind, and started to search for his friend. If he wasn’t here, he was probably detained not far… yep, he could sense his Grace, behind that tree.

“Hey angel.”

Aziraphale looked up. Well… he was definitely incapacitated. These thugs knew how to detain angels. He wasn’t even able to talk. Crowley shook his head.

“Seriously, Aziraphale ? Getting caught so easily ? I’m kind of disappointed in you. And you let them lead me into a trap. Never thought it would take so little to betray me.”

The angel pouted.

“Little ? Crowley, you can’t be serious. This is a _soft ice cream _!”

Behind them, the four bandits had stopped bickering and were opening the briefcase. Delighted cries erupted.

“This is awesome ! I’ll take this one !”

“I want the red one !”

“I want the blue !”

“You’re a girl, Pepper.”

“So what ? I can’t have the blue ?”

“… yes, you can.”

“Right.”

Aziraphale tried to frown sternly, but the smudge of chocolate ice cream on the tip of his nose was totally ruining it.

“Did you really had to choose four different colours, my dear ?”

“Course I did. They wouldn’t argue otherwise. Don’t worry, I’ve kept the best ones for us.”

He miracled two paintball guns, one the shade of a pearly, shiny silver, the other dark as night.

“Wanna fight, angel ? Four against two’s not fair, but we’ll do our best. No one’s gonna get hurt, I made sure of it.”

Aziraphale made quick work of the last of his icecream, got on his feet, and decidedly took the black gun.

“Since when are you interested in fair fights, Crowley ? I know how dirty you can be.”

“Don’t make me laugh, angel. They’ll spot us.”

The angel cleaned himself with a miracle (leaving the chocolate on his nose. Crowley didn’t mentioned it, interested in seeing how long it would take for his friend to realise) and brandished his gun with unsettling confidence. The Them had stopped talking. Only silence could be heard in the forest.

“Shall we, my dear ? Anathema doesn’t expect us back before diner. More than enough time to smite these young ruffians. Or perish trying to.”

“It would be an honour” answered Crowley with a shark’s smile.

These kids had no idea what they’d gotten into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted some light, fun one after the last three. Let our boys have some fun !  
Next prompt is Beaten. And Numb. I'll do both tomorrow (looks at the time) I mean today. And the last two the 31th !


	29. Beaten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a certain game he likes to play. Other people don't even know they're playing with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is exactly the kind of little game I imagine Crowley inventing.

Diner at Jasmine cottage was particularly good, which was a happy surprise for Aziraphale. He wasn’t expecting a lot from an American girl, and was only counting on good, friendly conversation. He liked Anathema and Newt a lot, and Adam’s parents were, in his opinion, delightful people. Adam himself wasn’t intimidated at being the only child. He was used to it and chatted with the angel quite happily.

Crowley, on the other hand, was trying his best to be agreeable, but was rapidly losing interest in the discussion. He wandered near one of the windows as soon as he’d put his hand on a cup of coffee. That’s when he noticed the snow. He repressed a relieved smile. Aziraphale was having fun and would get grumpy to see the party stop short. No need to attract his ire by grinning. He knew all too well that an aggravated Aziraphale was NOT good company on a ride.

“Angel ? There’s quite a snowstorm out there. Think we should go quickly.”

Aziraphale frowned and got up to join him, expecting some nice, light snowdrops. Crowley had a tendency to exaggerate, and was obviously bored and willing to go back to London as soon as possible. The angel took one look through the window and let out a little gasp. This was a snow flurry, and it didn’t look like it would end soon.

“We should bring Adam and his family home while the roads are negotiable or they’ll be trapped here” added Crowley in a concerned voice, sweeping deliberately all trace of smugness from his tone, expression and even aura, just in case. The witch was pretty sly and she and the angel were thick as thieves now (their relation had had a rough start, but since they’d spent an entire afternoon discussing Agnes’s prophesies that had Anathema understand practically ALL the predictions the Device familly had long ago deemed indecipherable, they considered each other BFF’s. Not that it bothered Crowley. It didn’t. At all.)

Anathema acted at once, handing over coats and scarves, all efficiency, while Newt tried his best to help, repeating like a a mantra that “this was impossible. The weekend was supposed to be mild !”

Crowley peered at Adam as discretely as he could. Perfect weather for eleven years, and today the first real storm in Tadfield in more than a decade was upon them ? It seemed improbable.

But Adam was calmly donning his coat.

“Oh but mister Aziraphale, you can’t go back all the way to London in this weather ! This is too dangerous !”

“Deirdre is right. You have to stay the night, it would be prudent.”

“Yes, we have guest rooms, it won’t be a bother.”

Aziraphale hesitated. He didn’t like spending too much time away from his bookshop. And they could perfectly get back home without the slightest inconvenience, but…

But the Youngs would be worried. And they were so hospitable. Not to forget Crowley...

Crowley was beaming, a twinkle in his eyes. _Guest rooms_, remembered Aziraphale. Plural. Oh, the game was on, then. Aziraphale knew this look, and he would never deprive his dearest friend of his fun. After all, the demon didn’t like gatherings like this and had been very patient, only because he knew Aziraphale enjoyed himself.

“Deirdre, I think we will have to accept. If it is not an imposition.”

“Not at all, my dear !”

Crowley was at the angel’s elbow in a blink, all suave and attentive.

“Your coat, angel. It’s freezing outside.”

“Why, thank you my dear.”

The demon fussed over his friend, helping him with his coat, his scarf, and reluctantly letting him don his own gloves when Aziraphale shot him a particular Look that conveyed a lot of annoyance. The angel was always willing to let him have his ways, but had his limits.

The drive to Hogback Lane was made as smoothly as expected, the Bentley being very careful not to slide on the icy road. Crowley wanted her to drive like always, so she did with the greatest dignity.

“My, Arthur. That car really is comfortable. You are driving really well, mister Crowley.”

Crowley didn’t react at the baffled tone.

“Thank you, Mrs Young. I try my best to drive safely. You all right, angel ? Not cold ?”

“I feel perfectly fine, Crowley. Thank you.”

Parking the car lead to another show, Crowley almost running to hold the car’s door for the angel.

“Oh, this is so charming. What a considerate friend you are, mister Crowley.”

The demon was starting to get anxious. Deirdre Young was a resilient one. Come on, woman ! I call him _angel_, for Manchester’s sake ! Take the hint !

“Well, I will make you two a nice cup of tea before preparing your rooms. Do not worry, it won’t take long.”

Aziraphale hid a grin. Crowley groaned inwardly. That would NOT do ! He followed Adam’s mother to the kitchen, Aziraphale in tow. The demon helped her prepare the tea, then prepared a cup for his friend, with just enough milk and sugar, before handing it to him with a cheesy smile Deirdre couldn’t miss.

“Well, I’ll prepare the beds now.”

Crowley almost gave up. But he was not ready to accept defeat.

“Could you add some extra blankets, Mrs Young ? I am really sensitive to cold. Always end up wrapping around poor Aziraphale if I’m not heated enough, aren’t I, angel ?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but it wasn’t cheating. Crowley was only speaking the truth, after all. He answered in all honesty.

“Well, I don’t mind, really, my dear. You know it doesn’t bother me.”

Deirdre Young’s mind was currently doing a rather abrupt U-turn. She blushed to her ears.

“Oh. Oh my.. I… I am so silly sometimes ! And here I was, about to give you separate rooms !”

Crowley aimed for the killing.

“T’s not a bother, Mrs Young. We can perfectly adjust if you’d prefer us not to sleep together.”

Adam’s mum was now mortified.

“Of course not ! Don’t think… there is absolutely no problem ! I assure you, Arthur and I have no problem at all...”

Aziraphale smiled sweetly and the woman instantly felt her anxiety disappear.

“Do not trouble yourself, my dear. Anthony was merely joking to lighten the mood. Of course we know you don’t mind.”

A relieved smile came to her lips.

“I’ll prepare the spare room. With extra blankets. You will be very comfortable, you’ll see.”

She disappeared rapidly.

Crowley turned to his friend with a victorious smile.

“See ? I won again !”

“You embarrassed our friend, Crowley” answered Aziraphale tersely.

“Didn’t ! She’s fine ! And we got the best spare room !”

“I do not think they have a plethora of spare rooms, my dear.”

“Whatever. We got the best. I’ll sleep in luxury tonight !”

“Crowley. Dear ?”

Uh-oh. The tone was one he didn’t like one bit. A calm, patient, scary tone.

“Yup ? Whot ?”

“You know I have nothing against this little game of yours. You like to sleep in very large beds, and you like to mislead people. And I don’t mind, really. I’ll read all night long anyway. And I rather enjoy when you are using this particular show on narrow-minded, unpleasant people.”

“Hu… yes ?”

“But I am warning you : This ends here. In this house, that is. These are Adam’s parents, and we have to behave. No awful breakup at breakfast tomorrow. Am I clear ?”

Crowley pouted. He liked the awful breakups. It was his favourite part, seeing the horrified faces all around. But the angel had a point. He nodded.

“Alright. Spoilsport.”

“Good. Oh, and one more thing : we will come back here a lot, you realise. So I just guess you will have to act like the perfect boyfriend every time, it would seem suspicious not to.”

“Oy !”

Aziraphale sipped his tea.

“Delicious. I look forward to the next stays here.”

“Angel. I won’t hold the bloody door for you every time or prepare all your twenty teas a day when we’re here !”

“And help me put my coat on. You do not have to. It is your choice after all.”

Crowley looked at the angel’s satisfied smile in horror. Damn. He was right. He’d acted the perfect boyfriend and Deirdre found him charming. He couldn’t change now, it would destroy his reputation. He was a charming boyfriend in this house, and he had to stay it ! Image was very important to Crowley, and he had to be the best in all. Couldn’t have Adam’s mum think he was slipping, could he ? (Or worse, having her think he was getting tired of Aziraphale. She would NOT take that lightly. She loved the angel ! Everybody did !)

“Well, maybe I could...”

“You will NOT erase her memory.”

A laughing voice chimed in.

“No you won’t. You’re stuck, uncle Crowley.”

Both men-shaped entities turned to the boy-shaped Antichrist. He stared at Crowley with the most serious expression.

“You have to treat your husband very well under this roof.”

“Oy ! Husband ? You mad, kid, I never said that !”

“You both told everyone you knew each other since like forever. Mum will never believe you’re not at least engaged. She’ll bother you with that every time she’ll see you. Easier for you to tell you’re already married, honestly. Or she will, like, plan your wedding for you or something.”

Aziraphale let out a delighted chuckle.

“Oh, this is great. I have to choose our anniversary’s date. I am pretty sure it will be precisely on our next visit.”

Crowley looked at him in horror. Winning this particular game didn’t seem like a victory at all.

Adam got to his room with the contented feeling of a job well done. He would see his favourite uncles a few more days (the snowstorm idea was genius. He should thank Brian for that one) and it would be much more fun than anticipated thanks to uncle Crowley.

It would be _WICKED_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's best plans are always backfiring...^^


	30. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's mind has a trigger. A very dangerous one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whump my friends !  
And fluff too... of course fluff.
> 
> I HAVE TWO MORE PROMPTS TO WRITE IN 12 HOURS !!  
Of course I can do it. No sweat. I'm perfectly tickety boo...  
I will do it. My honor depends on it !

Crowley had slept like a king. The Young's best guest-room was awesome. This bed was even more comfortable than Aziraphale's couch (though he would never say so to the angel, of course).  
He stretched slowly like a cat. Yawned. Opened an eye. There was light, the curtains were opened. He was feeling fantastic. In fact he’d rarely felt better in his entire life. He rolled on his side, and saw the angel standing at the window, his back turned, looking outside.  
  
The demon blinked lazily, still half asleep. He wondered vaguely if the roads were negotiable before his mind abruptly screeched to a halt. He sat up, completely awake. Aziraphale’s posture was odd.  
  
"Angel ?"

There was no answer, not even the slightest sign of recognition. Crowley all but jumped out of bed.

“Hey, angel… you hear me ? What are you looking at ?”

He’d aimed for a casual tone, but the angel’s tensed shoulders were frightening him. He looked at his friend’s face. It was stiff as stone, his eyes, looking down on the garden, seemed lifeless. But that wasn’t the worst.

Aziraphale was crying.

Suddenly, like he had finally noticed the demon’s presence, he opened his mouth. Crowley felt relief for a brief second. It didn’t last.

“Why ? Why did you do this ?”

“What ? What did I do ? I was sleeping, angel, I didn’t...”

Crowley brusquely felt a cold hand seizing his heart. He was so focused on the angel he didn’t even looked out the window. This was Adam’s house. Aziraphale was crying.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned around and _looked_.

Well. No Antichrist body, that was a GOOD thing. But what… what was the angel talking about exactly ? What was he accusing him of ? There was nothing but snow and leaves out there.

White snow, pure and pristine. And golden leaves, piled up here and there by the wind like little pools of molten gold. The light was so bright and pure he felt like he was back in Heaven.

It felt a lot like Heaven, now he thought about it. It was not a nice feeling. This white looked too much like angel’s feathers, and with this golden colour scattered all over it, it reminded him of Aziraphale’s injury, his bleeding wing, not long ago.

Angel’s blood, pooling amongst white, and this divine light… it was the time of his Fall all over again. Right before it, actually. It was the War.

“Why did you have to ?” asked Aziraphale again in a lifeless tone.

_He is not talking to me,_ realised Crowley.

* * *

He just stood here, looking down at the glorious vision, not moving, his mind completely frozen. This was too much. This was…

He could feel the tears running down his cheeks, but in a distant, detached way. _Oh, well. My corporation is crying. How odd._

He heard a familiar voice coming close, felt hands on his shoulders, shaking lightly, but he just couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t…

he was only able to keep his eyes opened. He didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help it. It was all playing again in his mind. The blood. The violence. The cries.

He should just stay here. Stay here forever, don’t move, don’t think.

The voice was calling now, a little more clearly, the shaking so frantic he almost closed his eyes. But it didn’t matter. He felt… nothing.

Suddenly, he wasn’t standing any more. He was sitting on something… soft.

He hated that word. Why was ‘soft’ a bad word ? Why couldn’t he _be_ soft ? He didn’t want to be cold. He didn’t want to be sharp. He didn’t want to be a _fight__er_.

“_T’s alright. You don’t have to. Just. Just relax, angel. I’ve got you, okay ?”_

Crowley. That was Crowley’s voice. Why was he here ? What was he doing here ? He shouldn’t be here, he would get killed. Crowley was not supposed to get killed, he was about to Fall. Fall or die. There was no over way, She wanted them Fallen or Dead. Out of Heaven. Forever.

Why ? He’d saw so many of them repenting, imploring Her to forgive. He’d saw angels slaying angels without remorse as they were begging her on their knees. He saw others, gathered around Lucifer, smiling as they obliterated forever entities they called family only hours before.

Why ? Why did this have to happen ? Why was she cautioning this ? This was not right. This couldn’t be right !

He hadn’t realised he was talking until he couldn’t any more. Something was covering his mouth, and Crowley’s voice, low and menacing, was rumbling in his hear.

“_Shut up ! Just… shut up ! Don’t you dare open your mouth again, I mean it !”_

He opened his eyes to meet yellow, terrified ones. His mouth was apparently connected to his vision now, and one of the two needed to let something flow out. Crowley got all blurry. The hand was hastily removed and cradled the back of his head, burying his face in the demon’s shoulder.

“please angel, don’t talk. Don’t think. You should stop thinking.”

_ I should. I really should. Why can’t I stop thinking ? I don’t want to doubt. Not Her. Never Her. _

“Hey, angel ? You know what ? That Van Gogh copy I offered you for the bookshop’s bicentennial ? Not a copy.”

Slowly, very slowly, Aziraphale inhaled shakily.

“… Not ?”

“Nope. Stole it. Perfect copy in its place. You got the real thing.”

The angel’s mouth tugged at a corner.

“You’re… bad.”

“That I am. And Agatha Christie’s disappearance ? Was my idea. She loved it.”

The vice that was strangling Aziraphale’s chest began to loosen. He breathed deeply once again, only realising now that he was gripping the demon’s arm so hard it was a miracle it didn’t break. He forced his fingers to unclench.

“People were... _worried..._ Crowley.”

Crowley grinned.

“I _know_ ! And the Hope Diamond’s curse ? I started the rumours.”

Aziraphale let go of his friend’s arm and straightened. Golden eyes met his, full of badly concealed concern. He closed his eyes a few seconds. Doubt was fading. It always did. And Faith was there instead, as strong as ever. He was so silly. It was all Ineffable. Everything was fine. Well… almost. He had something to confess first.

“Crowley...”

“Yes, what ? What is it ?”

“It’s very important. I never told you. I couldn’t bring myself to. All these years back… I… I did something terrible to you”

Crowley stared at him, waiting. Whatever it was, thought the demon, he didn’t care. It wasn’t important. He could take anything and forgive, no matter what.

Aziraphale bowed his head.

“I drank your last bottle of 1787 Château Margaux after our fight about the platypuses.”

Crowley gaped. Long seconds stretched while he stared at the angel’s contrite expression.

“You said it was _Bismark_ !” Erupted the demon.

“Well I lied. I truly am sorry.”

“I just can’t believe it ! You _stole_ from me !”

“Borrowed. I returned the bottle.”

“Why _thank you_, that was very gracious of you !”

“I will find you another one.”

“The Heaven you will. It’s impossible to find !”

“Well you were very annoying and totally wrong about it ! Platypuses are not the ancestors of ducks !”

“Course they are ! T’s obvious ! Just look at them ! “

“Crowley, evolution doesn’t even exists to begin with !”

“I am so mad at you right now I don’t even want to talk to you any more ! I’m going to get breakfast, angel ! Feel free to join, see if I care, you backstabbing liar !”

Crowley stomped his way to the door, huffing angrily, and crossed his arms, waiting. Aziraphale got up and joined him, smiling softly.

“I will make it up to you, my dear.”

“You better.”

Crowley held the door open for his friend. He had a role to fulfil in front of Adam’s family after all. A deep relief in his heart and a stern expression on his face, he closed it behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the reason Crowley is feeling so good waking up IS because an angel is doubting very close to him. It is a delightful sensation.


	31. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serpents don't like cold. Crowley tend to forget that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small one here. Fluff again ^^

Cold. Snow was freakin’ cold ! He kind of forgot about THAT when he agreed on a snow fight with the kids.

Aziraphale had told him it was stupid. Well, he's said “are you quite sure, my dear ?” in a cautious voice. The kind of voice he used when what he wanted to say actually was “this is the stupidest idea you ever had, Crowley, but I will not say it, and I will try to stay neutral and let you behave like a responsible demon.”

Of course the only answer to that tone was to do exactly the opposite of “responsible”. So here he was, a cold blooded creature in the snow, freezing like mad after ten bloody minutes. He couldn’t get back now. Not after making a show of going out for a freakin’ SNOW FIGHT.

Sometimes he just hated himself.

He gingerly grabbed a handful of white, deadly water in his cold, gloved hands.

He was so going to discorporate.

A window opened behind him.

“Crowley. Come home, you’re going to freeze !”

“I’m perfectly fine, angel. Having the time of my life here !”

“I would believe you if your ears weren’t blue. Come back in, you stupid serpent !”

This was the beginning of a long argument, which escalated in yelling loud enough for Crowley to be discovered and buried under an avalanche of snowballs in less than five minutes.

The Them got out of this fight victorious, their honour restored after the paintball debacle. Crowley was dragged home on shaky legs by a cross angel, who deposited him an armchair near the fireplace and put a steaming mug in his hands without a word.

“Don’t see why you’re brooding. I should be the brooding one. You should have been here and help me” grumbled the demon.

“Help you freeze to death ? No, thank you.”

“We’re a team ! We had to show the Them we’re the best, angel !”

Aziraphale conspicuously flapped a page of the magazine he’d found in the living room.

“We already showed them, two days ago. Remember ?”

Crowley pouted and looked elsewhere.

“_You_ show them. I got shot right away because of you.”

There was a “flap” when the magazine landed on the coffee table.

“I _beg your pardon _?”

“You attracted attention on us with your clumsy walking !” Accused the demon.

“What ?”

“You made all the branches you’d walked on _creaks _!”

This sentence was met with deadly silence. Then :

“Are you calling me _Fat_, Crowley ?”

The demon back-pedalled. He knew a minefield when he saw one. This was definitely not a place to stay right now.

“Noooooo…. Nope, absolutely not ! You’re very… lean. Skinny. You’re thin ! That’s it, thin !”

But Aziraphale was on a rant and _not _listening.

“Because I would remind you I shot all four of the other team’s members while you were down, and none of them _heard_ me.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. Was just being a sore loser, at’s all.”

“You said it, not me.”

The only answer to that was a loud sneeze. Aziraphale sighed.

“I knew it. You _had_ to catch a cold.”

“M’not sick ! Demons don’t get sick !”

_I wish you were right,_ thought Aziraphale, eyeing his demon with a touch of concern.

One hour later, Crowley was efficiently demonstrating that demons could, indeed, be ill. Aziraphale fussed a lot and all but ordered him to bed before coming back in the living room for the rest of the afternoon to chat with Adam’s parents.

Deirdre thought it odd that he didn’t got back to check on his poor husband, but she knew how men and sickness could be. If dear Mister Aziraphale said he would sleep all day, then it had to be true. She hoped her second guest wouldn’t fall ill also. He’d put on a very large jumper. It was a little odd on such a refined man.

Adam looked sheepish, reading in an armchair, not really focusing on his book. He kept looking at Aziraphale with shame.

“Don’t feel bad, my dear boy. He will be right as rain really soon” murmured the angel softly enough not to be heard by anyone else.

“I didn’t know about the cold, uncle Aziraphale, I swear.”

“I know, Adam. It is quite alright, do not fret.”

“I’m really sorry”

A sleepy hiss came from Aziraphale’s jumper.

“Jusssst shut up, kid. Trying to sssleep here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next and last chapter will be posted in a minute ^^


	32. Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is the target of a very angry waitress. What did he do to deserve that ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've waited so long to write this one !!
> 
> Lots and lots of thanks to megzseattle ! I'd never have done it without your support ! And with two hours to spare ! ❤❤❤❤❤

It had been a while since Crowley hadn’t had a good cheese naan, and he was so rarely experimenting cravings that Aziraphale was only too happy to oblige. So here they were, three days after their return from Tadfield, sitting at their usual table in their favourite little Indian restaurant.

The demon was enjoying the familiar ambiance and smells. He really liked the place. Tonight was different though. It was nice, but… strange nice. Like he was on a job or something.

“Oh, no...”

“What is it, dear ?” asked Aziraphale distractedly, scanning the menu like it contained the secrets of the universe.

“Someone here is very very angry. I’m all tingly.”

“Oh. That is inconvenient. Do you want us to go home ?”

_Not with that dejected face you’re doing_, thought the demon with amusement.

“I’m fine. I really want a naan. It’s not that bad.”

He ignored the nagging sensation and focused once more on spending an agreeable night. The waitress's arrival ruined his efforts.

“Hello, sirs. Can I take your orders ?” she asked frostily.

Crowley shot her a startled look. Savitri was usually always smiling. Well, not tonight. Her stare could have frozen Hell itself (not that Hell was particularly hot, but anyway). The anger was there, and it was strong, and directed at them. What the fuck was happening here ?

He really didn’t remember any evil wrongdoing here. He never touched their restaurants. It would have been like stabbing his Bentley’s tires.

Aziraphale ordered three different dishes, and the woman took his command with a withering look before turning to Crowley who was already shrinking on himself.

She sent him a nice, warm smile.

What was _happening_ here ? Thought the demon as the waitress walked away.

“Angel ?”

“Mmmm ?”

“Put your lassi down, serious talk here.”

“What is wrong ? Is it the angry human ? Did it get worse ?”

“Well… in a way. Did you noticed how Savitri looked at you just now ?”

“Oh, yes, I did. I don’t know why she dislikes me so much lately. I am trying to understand, but really...”

“What do you mean, lately ? She wasn’t like that before ! She loves you usually. Everybody loves you !”

“Well she was already acting strange last time. I didn’t realise it was me...”

“Last time ?” Crowley thought about it. Last time had been some months ago. They hadn’t got out much lately. But he didn’t remember anything untoward.

“You weren’t there last time, my dear.”

“Hu ? You came here alone ?”

“No, I was with Hastur.”

Crowley stared. Blinked.

“You know, when I was meeting him to find a way to give you your powers back” explained the angel, feeling like a precision was needed.

“I know _why_ you bloody met the freak, angel. No need to remind me _why” _he hissed.

“Oh. Well, that was the last time I came here. A month ago, I think. More or less.”

“Angel. Why ?”

“What do you mean ?”

“Why did you come here, stupid ?”

“I was hungry. I couldn’t talk to Hastur on an empty stomach. And he wanted our meeting to be lunch dates. It was part of the...”

“Bloody contract, I know !” snapped the demon angrily. “I know that ! Are you telling me you brought a date in one of _our _restaurant ?”

“Well… I think the answer is yes. Is it bothering you ?”

_ Yes, it is ! It’s OUR fuckin’ RESTAURANT ! _

Well he couldn’t answer that. He should not feel so angry about that. There was a more urgent problem at hand anyway.

“Angel. You know humans usually see us as… you know.”

Aziraphale looked at him expectantly.

“I’m not sure I do.”

“When we come eat somewhere, just the two of us, they think… I mean, most of the time, they...”

Epiphany landed.

“Oh ! They believe we are a couple. Yes, I know that. Why ?”

Crowley closed his eyes and summoned all his patience.

“We came to eat here regularly for the last ten years at least, Aziraphale.”

“Twelve, actually” corrected the angel. You could count on him to remember that kind of details.

“And they all think we are living together” developed Crowley patiently.

“Well, yes, I guess. We are, in fact.”

“And you came here, bringing a _date_, and… was there some hand holding involved ?”

“Yes. He was very insistent on this. I still do not see why.”

“Holly shit, angel ! You really wonder why Savitri hates you ?”

“Crowley !”

“I’ll bloody swear if I bloody want ! Everyone here thinks you’re cheating on me, you imbecile !”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Why would they think that ?”

“You’d hold hands all lovey dovey with another man, that’s why.” A sudden idea occurred to Crowley.

“Please, tell me it wasn’t at this table.”

“No. I asked for it, it is the best corner after all, but they said it was already booked. Which is strange, because nobody sat here while we were eating.”

Well at least he’d been spared _that._ Eating in Hastur’s chair. Urgh. He made a mental note of leaving a huge tip behind.

“Aziraphale, how can someone that brilliant be so...”

“Stupid ?” offered the angel, looking away.

“I didn’t say that. I meant… well yes, stupid, I guess. It was ! You can’t bring a date in one of our places and expect no consequences !” Crowley was started to speak loud enough to be heard at other tables, too irritated to care.

“But cheating is not about holding hands ! It’s about _sex_. You know how humans feel about being _exclusive_ these days. I am almost certain holding hands is not considered cheating. Lots of people hold hands.”

“Not two unrelated males in a restaurant. It’s an intimate gesture, angel. Even _Hastur_ got it !”

A plate suddenly landed in front of Crowley, with a compassionate smile from the waitress. Then a cold and satisfied look accompanied the angel’s dishes.

“Oh, great. Now she thinks we’re fighting. At least she didn’t spit in your food. She knows I like to sample.”

Aziraphale looked dejectedly at his plates.

“I am so sorry. I ruined this place now, haven’t I ? I didn’t think it would be so much trouble… I guess I didn’t think at all, like always. Maybe we should just go home. I… I don’t feel like eating any more.”

Crowley’s ire deflated immediately.

“T’s not your fault. You were helping me. Sorry I yelled. We’ll fix this, okay ?”

“I really do not see how” murmured the angel, eyeing his surroundings longingly, like he would never see it again.

Crowley was rapidly reminding all the soap operas he’d helped create.

“Work with me here, angel. You just have to follow my lead, all right ?”

Aziraphale nodded. He knew Crowley’s elaborated acts almost always worked.

Crowley got up and slithered his way towards the kitchen. Aziraphale looked at his food and tried to eat. No, he definitely had lost his appetite.

Crowley was back soon, and sat with a smile. He raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“Tis gonna be fun.”

Savitri was back with two flutes of champagne. Aziraphale eyed them with surprise.

“Angel… I’m sorry. Really, I am” murmured Crowley, just loud enough for her to hear. She found an imaginary wrinkle in the tablecloth just next to them.

“I miss you so much. These last months have been Hell. I can’t live without you. I’ve been a jerk. Please, come back. I’ll do anything you want.”

Aziraphale stared, frozen on the spot. He didn’t knew his lines. Crowley took his hand in both of his and smiled tenderly. The angel had to repress a giggle at the audible gasp in his back.

“Of course I’ll come back, you silly thing.”

Crowley really should have consider acting as a retraining. He went through all the stages of surprise, happiness, elation, tears, happiness again, to finally raise from his seat and kneel near the angel for the tightest hug of his life.

There was a wet sob somewhere behind them.

“Really, dear ? Wasn’t it a smidgeon too much ?” Whispered the angel, trying to conceal his amusement.

“Absolutely not. Love is passion, angel.”

“Well… it was perfect, then.”

“You hungry again ?”

“Famished, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whumptober is over ! And I made it (Well, I made it in some parts of the world. Here in Europe it's 6 am but I don't care, the 31 is not over everywhere so I WON ! Ah ah ! Take that... myself, I guess... ^^)
> 
> I think I'll write a little less this month. It was so much fun but I missed a lot of sleep :D  
I'll restrain myself. a chapter all two or three days will be perfect, I guess.


End file.
